From Here On In
by DuchessOfGere
Summary: Spoilers! Post-Series Con't Fic. Duzell and Phelios aren't the closest of brothers, but they make due. When trouble and memories begin to stir the twin princes find themselves tangled in a difficult web of family secrets and personal intrigues.
1. Chapter 1

**AN - Hello, all! I'm DuchessOfGere. Gere's fine : ). This is my first Vampire Game fic! Vampire Game is a great, gravely under-appreciated (in my opinion!) series. If you haven't read all 15 volumes, you might want to. Particularly since this story is a continuation of the series ; ). **

**THERE BE SPOILERS HERE!! Just so all you fine folk know. **

**Also, I'm a pretty mercurial writer, sadly enough. I know some FF authors are really dedicated and post regularly and I really admire that! I'm just not one of them. This story was my response to 'Well, what happens to Duzie NOW?'. I just figured that is I'm going to write it there can't be much harm in posting it . Reviews are very welcome! Critiques are even better and flames are often pitiable, but amusing all the same! **

**In case you hadn't guessed, I'm not Judal, nor do I work for (or even hold shares in!) Tokyopop or Wings Manga Magazine. It therefore goes without saying that this is a fanbased work and I am not receiving any sort of remuneration for writing this story (much as I might wish I was).  
**

--

_General Selen cradled the two brothers to her chest; a round tiny head nestled in the crook of each elbow. One of the boys begins to wail, his tiny baby fists flailing in the air _

"_I can't believe how lucky you are! To have such beautiful twin boys!" Selen exclaimed, gently bouncing the crying infant in an attempt to quiet his cries. "The one with the black hair looks just like you, Your Highness." Ishtar's face lit up, as if she had just been paid the most lavish of compliments._

"_I thought so, too!" She leaned over Selen's shoulder to beam down at her sons' faces. "The blond one is Phelios and the black-haired one is Duzell." Ishtar was grinning along at her own brand of humor. "I'm guessing they probably won't get along with each other, and that it's going to be trouble from here on in!"_

--

Duzell sloshed through the creek, getting water and mud all along the cuffs and sides of his trousers. He stopped in the middle of the creek, pivoting as he scrutinized the landscape, long black hair whipping around behind him. His body stilled and his eyes narrowed. There, just behind the thicket, he thought he could make out soft brown fur. With the quiet grace of a cat, he reached over his shoulder, drawing an arrow and nocking it into place against the bowstring. Brow furrowed in concentration, he lifted the bow, slowly pulling back his arm…

"Duzie!" The deer jumped, instantly alert, and took off into the woods. In a flurried attempt, the young prince released the arrow, knowing it wouldn't hit the target the moment his fingers uncurled. Still, he held his breath until the arrow whistled into a tree just a few feet from where his quarry had been standing. The deer was long gone.

"Duzie!" the insistent call came again. This time, the black-haired prince turned to the source of the intrusion, face so red it was a wonder he wasn't dizzy from the head rush. A slight boy with cropped golden blond hair and light blue eyes ran splashing into the creek, a broad smile decorating his face. "There you are! We thought we'd lost you," the boy said, clasping his irate brother on the arm.

"Moron! You scared away the doe," Duzell hissed, trying to get his anger in check. There was just something about his twin that caused his usually well-controlled emotions to boil. At first the slighter boy looked vaguely chastised, but a moment later was shaking off the remorse and replacing it with a ridiculously sunny grin. He placed a pale hand on his brother's arm, ignoring the taller youth's attempts to shake off the touch. "I'm going to kill you one of these days," Duzell muttered, glaring blackly at his sibling.

"Okay." Phelios responded with his customary unconcerned affability to the now familiar threat. Duzell's ire seemed to melt, mollified (or perhaps perplexed) by his twin's easy acceptance of inevitable doom. Shaking his head, Duzell brushed past his grinning-idiot of a brother and began heading back in the direction of the hunting party, Phelios trotting along behind him.

"We flowed the boar almost up to the forest edge before anyone realized you were even gone! I wish you'd told me you were going. I would have come with you," Phelios protested, falling into stride with his twin. "Dad might be angry. He didn't want me wandering off, but I'd figured you'd come this way, so…"

Phelios let the topic drop with an easy shrug of his slim shoulders. The boys were climbing up a hillside, fallen leaves and dirt sticking to their sodden pant legs and boots. Neither seemed to care. There were voices coming from the top of the hill. Duzell squared his shoulders, steeling himself for the inevitable scolding. General Darres wasn't the world's best, or most effective disciplinarian, but he certainly could lecture one's ear off. Duzell had a particular loathing for reprimands, especially ones coming from his father.

"Hey!" Phelios called, waving his arms in the air to draw the party's attention as the duo crested the hill. Once the hunting group was in view, Duzell could make out Darres' dark head of hair huddled together in conference with two of the local hunters that had been accompanying them. Duzell guessed Jill and Krai had broken off to look for him within the forest. Their father's head snapped up at Phelios' salutation, shaggy black bangs falling over anxious blue eyes. The Pheliostian General let out an audible sigh of relief at the sight of the two boys alive and with all their limbs intact. He placed his hands on his hips and frowned at his sons.

"You're not to old for a spanking, you know," he admonished, including both of his wayward sons in the warning. Phelios offered an apologetic smile, complete with wide-as-saucers puppy eyes and practiced air of innocence. It was an expression Darres had been all too accustomed to seeing on his wife's face during her younger, rowdier days.

"Sorry, Dad. All you old guys were slowing us down." Phelios took a step closer to his twin and Duzell immediately moved away, stomping around his father as if Darres were no more than a tree in armor. Phelios only sighed at the rejection, but Darres turned to follow after his son, arresting him with a stern "Duzell!" The fifteen-year-old stopped, facing his father with crossed arms and an affectedly blasé expression. Darres took a deep breath and prepared for round one.

"I just ask that you don't go off into the forest by yourself. At least take a guard with you. Both of you. I know you're both capable, but there are worse things out there than wild boars…" Duzell huffed indignantly at the well-worn lecture. The nerve of insinuating that he was incapable of handling himself!

"I know, Father," the teen ground out in an attempt to circumvent the rest of the talking-to. Darres squinted in disapproval of the flippant response. He'd swear keeping after Ishtar must have been easier than looking after her willful sons. Between Duzell's outright defiance and Phelios' penchant for crafty disappearances Darres was beginning to feel that his energies were spread a bit thin. Maybe he was just getting too old for chasing after headstrong kids.

"I wouldn't have to keep telling you this if you'd listen." Duzell was doing his best to look distinctly unimpressed, letting his gaze wander across the treetops. He could just make out the stone turrets of home over the foliage. Darres gave another sigh, this time in surrender. It seemed some things would never change. Just then, Krai and Jill came clambering up the other side of the hill, Jill with a dead rabbit tied over his shoulder, effectively forestalling any continuance of the argument.

The hunting party, regrouped and ready, loudly made its way back toward the castle path. Krai's good-natured if bawdy joking and Phelios' laughter were enough to occupy nearly the entire trek. At first, Duzell hung back, flatly refusing to join the conversation in favor of sulking, but was inevitably and quite against his will dragged into the light-hearted exchange of quips and puns.

People called out to the party as they made their way up the forest road to the east gate, stopping in their various pursuits to acknowledge the princes and General. As the little group approached the tall stonewalls, the gates were flung open and the busy going-ons of the inner keep were revealed. Servants dragged bundles of linens or carts of bread from one doorway to another while courtiers leisurely strolled in clusters of two or three across the courtyards.

Despite the clutter and bustle the crowd parted like the Red Sea before the returning party, the courtiers stopping to pay respect while the servants hurried to go around. One of the kitchen boys rushed up, ready to relieve the hunters of their catch which Jill gladly handed off to the small boy. The two huntsmen bowed, begging their leave of the General and complementing him on the success of the mornings hunt. Formalities finally taken care of, the remains of the group moved swiftly across the threshold and into the inner confines of the castle. The heavy wooden doors closed behind them, muffling the din of the outside world. It wasn't long before the conversation returned to its casual impropriety.

"You might think its great, Jill, but dating's just spending a bunch of money, time and energy to get to know a person whom you don't especially like right now and will learn to like a whole lot less in the future. It's just easier when you _know_ there aren't any strings attached in the relationship," Krai explained, slinging an arm around his fellow guard's shoulder. Jill shot him an exasperated look.

"This is probably the reason the Captain and I are married while you're 39 and single," Jill muttered. Krai had the decency to blush.

"I'm just taking my time," he blustered, slapping Jill's shoulder for emphasis. "I'm not a one-woman kind of guy!" Krai rounded on the Princes, a certain determined intensity about his brow. "You guys are young, Your Majesties. Don't you settle on one girl right away. You need to get out and experience things!" Darres blanched at the announcement.

"What are you saying?" he cried lurching towards his suns and raising his hands as if to cover their ears, but unable to decide on which one needed to be shielded from the information the most from the royal guard's advice

"Absolutely!" a feminine voice chorused. "My boys need adventure and new experiences! Falling in love and getting their first taste of heartbreak is perfect at this age! Right?" Queen Ishtar asserted, sweeping into view from around a tapestried corner. Her long purple dress was fisted in both hands and lifted to show her ankles. She'd obviously been running to meet the returning hunters. She sidled up to Krai, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"But if I ever get wind of either of them being anywhere near a brothel, you aren't _ever_ going to have children," she cooed. Krai laughed nervously, eyeing his sovereign with more than a touch of fear. Ishtar straightened up and promptly wrapped her arms around her next victim. She latched onto Duzell's neck, squeezing him in a manner half-motherly and half-childish. Standing side by side, Ishtar looked more like the boy's twin with her long black hair, crafty green eyes, and heart shaped face than the slender, pale creature waiting complacently next to Darres. The two main differences between mother and child were the tell-tail signs of maturity about Ishtar's face and the six inches of added height on her son.

"Hey, Mom," Duzell said, leaning into his mother's hug. She smiled and propped her chin on his shoulder, her hands clasping at his shoulders. Krai and Jill both excused themselves, ducking into the guardroom to give the family some time alone.

"How was the hunt? Catch anything good?" she asked, looking to her husband.

"A rabbit, pheasants, a lambunger, and we almost took down a boar," he rattled off. "Phelios got a shot in that was near perfect. I thought for sure we had him." Darres straightened with paternal pride, not seeming to be at all disheartened by the loss. Hunting expeditions were more for the boys' education than his enjoyment, anyway.

"And Duzie tried to get a doe on his own," Phelios added. Duzell shifted uncomfortably when his father glanced at him. Ishtar grinned, giving her son one last tight squeeze of the neck before releasing him to grab her husband's arm.

"I'm coming with you next time," she declared. Darres didn't even attempt to dissuade her. Experience had taught him better than that. "It'll be fun! It's been ages since I used a bow. I must be pretty rusty. Duzie, Phel, you have to practice with your mom some before we go," she ordered, practically bouncing in anticipatory excitement. Duzell smiled a rare genuine smile, thrilled at the prospect of monopolizing a good few hours, at least, of his mother's preciously scant free time. Ishtar opened her mouth, gearing up for another suggestion when a squat stump of a man trundled hurriedly into the corridor, his court robes flapping awkwardly behind him as he walked.

"Your Majesty! General! The Razenia delegation is here and awaiting you in the main hall," he huffed out, his barrel chest expanding with each inhale to the point where it looked as though his robes would burst.

"Ooh! Vord's here!" Ishtar squealed in delight. She reached for each of her sons in turn, planting a quick kiss to the forehead.

"Thank you, Balan," Darres added to the court advisor. The man ducked into a quick, ugly bow before Ishtar grabbed his arm, practically manhandling the dwarf of an advisor down the hallway. "Magic lessons at two. No skipping," Darres reminded his sons, voice firm even as he knew his words were most likely falling on deaf ears. Phelios offered a wide innocent smile, the type he specialized in, and Darres was forced to accept this as all the assurance he would be able to get. Giving his sons hair a quick tousle, a practice Duzell endured with great disdain, the General strode down the hall after his wife.

Alone, the twins set off together in a comfortable silence, letting their feet guide the way through the familiar halls. Phelios folded his arms behind his head, seemingly at perfect ease with the world. Duzell gilded down the corridor quiet and pensive as always. The only company he ever seemed to really enjoy was the Queen's. At least, the younger prince only ever laughed when Ishtar was around, as far as Phelios could remember. Phelios wondered if 'Mama's Boy' might be considered too radical a moniker.

"So you don't want to sneak off to eavesdrop on Mom and Uncle Vord, do you? It doesn't sound like they'll be discussing anything interesting, really," Phelios began, breaking the silence. Duzell smirked, shooting his twin a sideways glance.

"Aren't you going to 'Magic lessons at two'?" Duzell drawled. Phelios gave an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh.

"I'm a natural born genius at Holy Magic, Bro. What do I need _lessons_ for?" Phelios protested with a conspirators wink. They both knew that if one of the two of them needed work with Holy Magic, it was Duzell. "I don't want to stay here anyways."

"No one's stopping you from leaving," Duzell muttered beneath his breath.

"We should get out. New experiences, and all. Were already set for traveling," Phelios added, with a nod to his brother's bow while his own hand came to rest on the pommel of the sword at his hip. When Duzell didn't say anything Phelios knew his twin was considering it. "I kind of want to see what's on the other side of the North Road. Being a prince and all its important to know one's country." There was a pause where Phelios regarded his brother with a detached interest, waiting patiently for his sibling to agree.

"Yara's most likely set guards on the doors. She practically expects us to try and ditch," Duzell said at length. Phelios immediately broke into a full-watt grin. He knew he had him.

"I didn't know you were so bothered by a few _guards_, Bro," Phelios teased. Duzell shot him a bored stare.

"As if. I can just teleport us out to the road." Phelios raised a delicate blond eyebrow at the claim. Duzell excelled at Elemental Magic, or really any Magic that wasn't Holy Magic, but teleportation spells were definitely on the list of Newly Acquired and Not Much Practiced tricks.

"Both of us? Really?" Duzell just shrugged.

"You can stay here if you're scared." It didn't come off as a malicious statement, merely matter-of-fact in its tone. Phelios shook his head of short, pale-gold hair vehemently.

"Nah. I trust you," he asserted with the same ease and confidence with which he addressed everything. Duzell warily eyed his brother. No matter how many times Phelios' easy acceptance surfaced it always managed to throw Duzell of balance. Phelios was simply a mystery.

Duzell held out his hands for his twin. Phelios grinned and stepped right up next to the dark-haired prince, locking his hands with his sibling's long tapered fingers. Duzell closed his eyes, focusing the well of Magical energy within him and muttering the incantation. There was a hiss of wind through the corridor before the forms of the twin princes faded out of sight.

--

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN - Well, seems like I'm writing fairly quickly, which is a good thing : ). Still no reviews, but it's the day after I published. Perhaps I need to study the art of pacing U-U... **

**Disclaimer still applies. Same as it ever was ; )**

--

"_I need to know if she is the reincarnation of Phelios." The lingering voice of a phantom saved from extinction by the burning desire for revenge echoed in the chill air._

"_How?" the mother kyawl tilted her large whiskered face toward the night sky as if she could see the specter. The undead voice whispered a reply that only the great beast could hear._

"_Blood… One taste of her blood and I will know."_

--

Phelios put a hand on each side of the green belt wrapped around his slim hips and looked around the glen. The surrounding trees were thick and obviously much older than the ones in the east forest. The woods were silent except for the twitter of birds and chatter of small animals in the afternoon sun. Phelios figured this was somewhere north of home in one of the older unexplored woods.

"Ooh, you're good," he said, tilting his head to look at the alien skyline. It was probably getting close to two, judging by the suns position. Yara would be turning the castle upside-down looking for them. Duzell was stomping around the glen, clearly frustrated by the unfamiliar woodland. He was still in the leather vest, black undershirt, and muddied dark-brown pants he'd worn out on the hunt.

"Shut up," Duzell groused. They'd been wandering around for a while and it had become embarrassingly obvious that the brothers were nowhere near North Road. He scanned the area, eyes squinting into the tree line as if he could see the road just beyond the twined branches.

"It's okay, Bro. If there are any beasties around I'll protect you." Phelios promised, dropping a hand to rest on his sword and smiling disarmingly at his twin. Duzell only gave him a brief sideways glare out of the corner of his green eyes before snapping his gaze back to the trees.

"We'll just have to teleport back," Duzell decided after a moment of intense consideration. Phelios snorted and shook his head, blond bangs flopping across his forehead.

"No. I'm good. After this I'm not so sure I'm willing to cast in my lot with your slipshod teleportation skills." Duzell stiffened, offended by the accusation.

"My skills are not 'slipshod'," he claimed, voice cold and low. Phelios gave him a look designed for a maximum patronizing effect.

"I'd rather go back the old fashioned way, thanks. I don't fancy winding up on the other side of Razenia." Phelios firmly believed there were far worse places for the Crown Prince of Pheliosta and his younger twin to be lost in than a forest. Like a dungeon, for instance…

"Don't talk nonsense. I've never even been to Razenia before," Duzell quipped, a little testy after his failure. "You can't teleport anywhere you haven't been before."

"Have you ever been here?" Pheilos supplied, raising a golden eyebrow. Duzell moved to snap a comeback, but the words stuck in his throat as he looked around. Maybe it did look familiar… Like something out of a past life… As he looked at the trees he seemed to half-remember something, but when he tried to grab hold of it the memory slipped from him like a shadow. Duzell thought he might have been here before, but hadn't everything been taller?

"There's a village nearby!" Duzell announced with a sudden, unprecedented confidence.

"How do you know that?" Phelios demanded, trotting alongside his twin as Duzell took off into the tree line. There wasn't doubt in the question, just curiosity. Duzell shook his head, long black hair swishing across his lower back, and concentrated on navigating. Phelios seemed content to follow along behind and was rewarded for his faith when the trees thinned and the creeping grey curl of chimney smoke could be made out in the distance.

"Way to go, Bro! I forgive you for getting us lost!" Phelios exclaimed with a wide grin, rushing ahead towards the village. Duzell smirked triumphantly and quickened his strides to keep pace with the fair prince. As they neared the village, the two boys stumbled upon a fenced off pasture where a ranch hand was dumping feed into a corral. "Hello, there!" Phelios called, waving an arm in salutation. The hand looked up, surprised, then smiled and returned the wave, setting down the feedbag and walking to the edge of the fence to greet them.

"G'day," he chimed, resting his forearms on the wooden cross-post. He only appeared to be a few years older than the twins and his face was smudged over with sweat and dirt.

"Man, are we happy to see you! My friend and I are travelers from over west and we've been trying to get to Pheliosta Castle, but we've gotten really turned around." Phelios spun the lie with practiced ease, even throwing in a sheepish grin and chuckle for good measure. The cowboy nodded along, reaching up to scratch his chin.

"Travelers, eh? Well, you're not all that far off from the Main Road. After that, it's maybe a five-hours trip, if you don't have horses. Y'an't the first to pass through here, neither. There's another man that's come just this morning. He's at the tavern. We don't get many passerby through here," the hand explained, flashing a toothy grin.

"Tavern sounds nice. Don't suppose you could point us in the direction?" Phelios prompted. The hand nodded, straightening up to scramble over the fence. With a wave of his tattered glove, he beckoned for the twins to follow him as he walked past the stable toward a tiny town that couldn't possibly have a population exceeding a hundred.

"'Ere's the Tavern. You can get directions there. The main road is just a little past that well there, by the cobblers, see?" he pointed. Phelios nodded along, thanking the good fellow before letting him return to his work. The hand nodded once, wished them luck on their journey, and left. Wasting no time, Phelios approached the little single story building, taking in the entire town in the time it took to walk twenty feet. Duzell followed behind him, more like a shadow than a traveling companion, green eyes inspecting the town in a practiced, cool manner.

Inside the tavern was just as warm as outside. Despite the hour, several of the town's residents seemed to be sitting down for either a pre-dinner or post-lunch pint. The barmaid looked up as the boys entered. Her face broke into a bright smile and she waved the newcomers over to the bar. Phelios and Duzell slid onto the bar stools, Phelios immediately striking up a conversation with the friendly bartender while she brought them each a beer and took their depleted canteens to fill with water.

Duzell ignored the proffered beverage, choosing to stare moodily at the opposite wall instead. So much for an adventure. If he'd known all they were going to do was get lost in Nowheresville he would have preferred sitting through Yara's dumb Magic lesson. Duzell heard his brother introduce them as 'Krai' and 'Jill'. What a waste of an afternoon. Sliding off the stool, he decided this was the perfect opportunity to hunt up a restroom.

Heading straight for a promising doorway to the back of the tavern, Duzell didn't even notice the man in his intended path rising from his seat until Duzell was inches from him. The prince stopped short, barley a noses-width away from choppy crimson hair and a pair of penetrating blue eyes that almost made Duzell shrink back beneath their intensity. That was, until those blue eyes widened in surprise.

"Du?" the man rasped, taking in the long black hair and serious green eyes with amazement. There was a moment of shocked silence where the two regarded each other curiously before the man's confusion blinked away and a look of realization passed through his haunted sunken-in eyes. "The young Prince," the man said, inclining his head, and stepping out of the way. It was Duzell's turn to look shocked, his eyes immediately searching the crowd for his father or any other guard that might have been sent after the twins. When no familiar disapproving face presented itself, Duzell let out a yielding sigh of relief. This seemed to key the mysterious man in to their situation.

"If you're going back to the castle, you should wait here until morning. It's not wise to travel at night without escort," the man imparted, gaze flickering to the happily occupied boy sitting at the bar. It was only then Duzell was able to take in the man's full appearance. The stranger was perhaps an inch or so taller than he, wearing half-armor, a sword, and a travelers cloak. He looked less than thirty and was youthful in body, blue-eyed, crimson-haired, but seemed tired and worn in a way not physical. Duzell narrowed green eyes.

"Then my parents didn't send you?" The man glanced at him, seemingly amused by the young Prince's assumption. A half-smile pulled at his lips as he slowly shook his head.

"Stay here until morning," the man repeated, inclining his head once again before pushing gently past the Prince and disappearing through the tavern door. Pondering the strange encounter, Duzell proceeded to the facilities and returned to his brother, still brightly chatting away with a woman ten years his senior and clearly flirting with him.

"We should leave," Duzell murmured, interrupting the conversation. Pheilos glanced up in surprise, tilting his head to the side and staring inquiringly at his brother. "I want to set out," Duzell elaborated. Phelios shrugged, taking Duzell's vague explanation as motivation enough. He produced two gold pieces from his pocket for the beer, bid his farewells with the barmaid, and exited the tavern with Duzell. Phelios immediately set out in the direction of the old well the ranch hand had pointed out earlier.

"You know where we're going?" Duzell questioned as Phelios took a right at the well, heading for a dirt road running across a field in the distance.

"Yup. Sandra gave me directions." The barmaid. "It's not difficult, since the road doesn't really branch out much. We just follow it for twelve miles or so." Phelios glanced back at his brother. "So why did you really want to leave? Bored already?"

"Yes," Duzell supplied, not willing to go into his encounter with the stranger. Phelios shot him a knowing smile.

"That man wasn't looking for us, was he?" Duzell grunted in surprise. It made sense his brother would have noticed him talking to the mysterious traveler. The fair-haired prince wasn't blind, after all, and he was aggravatingly attentive to most every move his little brother made.

"No. I think he recognized me, though." Phelios let out a contemplative hum from low in his throat, folding his arms behind his head as he walked, their full canteens slung over his shoulder and bouncing against his side with each stride. He looked at the sky. The sun would be setting pretty soon. "He said we should wait for morning," Duzell added, staring at the pockets of light and shadow on the trees.

"It's a pretty fair idea. There are probably monsters this far north. Maybe even vampires," Phelios cautioned, glancing back at the rapidly retreating town. Duzell scoffed at the suggestion.

"There aren't vampires around here. This is human territory," he stated confidently. Phelios failed to look entirely convinced. His concern melted away fairly quickly as a mischievous glint crept into his wide blue eyes.

"That's funny, coming from you," Phelios teased. Duzell scowled at him out-right.

"Excuse me, _Saint_ Phelios. It's not my fault your parents are half-wits. Considering their combined IQ it's a miracle I'm as intelligent as I am," Duzell complained. At least his mother was clever. Darres was just plain thick, in Duzell's estimation.

"Well, there's no need to worry, I suppose," Phelios said. "Even if there were vampires or monsters I'll protect you. I'd cast 'La Gamme' for you, Duzie." He was smiling and his tone was comforting, but the words still sent a shiver down Duzell's spine.

"Don't say that! I hate it," Duzell spat, trying to shake off the feeling of cold. That spell gave him the creeps. Yara had shown them the spell book for it once and he'd flatly refused ever to look at it again. Phelios gave a broad smile, putting a consoling arm around his brother's shoulders despite their four-inch height difference. Phelios grinned, remembering the days when Duzell would cry when his twin mentioned that spell. Paradoxically enough, this was usually directly after a bout of Duzell promising to kill Phelios.

The twins walked on in this manner, keeping a good pace as they traveled. The road changed from dirt to stone depending on it's proximity to a town. They passed farmland and forest, all the while their shadows growing longer as the sun hurried toward the west horizon. They were three hours out and between towns when the sun finally set. The boys paced subtly increased and their conversation dwindled to silence as they moved, eyes warily scanning the roadsides.

"Bandits don't come this close in to the castle," Phelios mumbled in an attempt to be reassuring. Duzell didn't reply. He was thinking of the dagger at his side and fingering the long wood bow he'd carried with him since the morning's hunt.

There was a sound from within the tree line. Both boys froze. Phelios' hand rested on the hilt of his sword and a Holy Spell hung ready on his lips. Duzell had his bow down and stung, his hand hovering in case he need to draw an arrow from the quiver. The sound came again, a low keening noise from somewhere within the trees. The boys listened intently and gradually began to make out the soft wails of someone crying. The boys looked at each other, relaxing slightly, but still apprehensive. The cry came again, this time clear and mournful. Phelios scrambled into the bush in hot pursuit of the cries and after a moment of hesitation Duzell followed suit.

Pushing shadowy limbs and leafy tangles aside, Phelios followed the soft crying until he emerged in a tiny clearing created primarily by two forest oaks on either side whose labyrinthine roots occupied the majority of the forest floor. Sitting on a root, clutching her leg to her shivering body was a young woman. She looked up at Phelios' approach batting big light-brown eyes. Phelios rushed to the maiden, kneeling gallantly beside her.

"What's the matter, miss? Are you hurt?" She ducked her head, scrubbing the tears from her eyes with a pale hand. Phelios quickly produced a handkerchief and offered it to the weeping lady.

"M-my leg," she stuttered out, possessively clutching the limb to her chest.

"It's all right," Phelios said in a soothing tone, gently extending his hand toward her. "If you'll pardon me, may I see?" he asked leaning over her and dropping his chin to look down at the leg and exposing his pale neck. The girl released the leg and slowly entwined her arms across Phelios back and shoulder. "Miss?" he began, starting to lean back from the contact. She hushed him and drew him closer.

"Oh, please. Please help," she whispered, her head coming to rest at the crook of his shoulder. "Please help," she repeated, lifting her head so her cool breath played across the hairs on the back of his neck. Soft lips brushed against his escalating pulse. There was a sharp whistle and a twang as an arrow embedded itself directly into where the woman had been sitting.

"Get away from him!" The woman's arms were gone and Phelios could only look round in bewilderment. His eyes lighted on his twin, bow drawn and expression livid, full lips pressed into a grimace. Phelios' gaze snapped to where his brother was glaring. The woman stood with her back to a tree, her expression feral. The shadows that created the light-brown tint to her eyes were gone and in the moonlight the blood red color of her eyes was revealed. If that hadn't been enough to give her away, the sudden manifestation of giant bat wings would have been. Phelios was stunned, staring motionlessly at snarling creature baring her fangs at them.

She moved again and in a blink was charging down the younger prince. Duzell leased the bow, an arrow lodging in her chest. The vampire barely flinched and continued barreling toward the black-haired boy. Duzell drew his dagger, but she was upon him. Launching to his feet, Phelios parted his lips, remembering Holy Magic was the only means of bringing the creature down. He hurried to cast a spell, but the vampire's fangs were already at his brother's shoulder. She bit down and Duzell cried out.

The next several seconds was a mad flurry of bewildering activity. The vampire screamed, casting herself away from Duzell and cowering before him, wailing in genuine terror. The spell, half-cast, died on Phelios lips. Duzell was breathing heavily, clasping a hand to his freely bleeding shoulder, staring at the shrieking vampire. No one moved as the vampire's wails filled the clearing.

"Forgive me! Forgive me, My Lord! I did not know! Forgive me!" she shrieked. The twins stared in open astonishment, wondering if this was some other trick or if the creature was mad. Phelios decided not to take chances. He began the spell again. The vampire gave another squeal of terror and took off into the night sky as fast as her wings could carry her. The brothers waited breathless in strained silence, expecting the evil creature to return at any moment. When it became apparent that she truly had fled Phelios snatched up the dropped handkerchief he'd given to the vampire and rushed to his brothers side, pressing the cloth to the bite.

"What is this madness?" Phelios muttered, tending to his brothers shoulder. The wound was already clotting and it appeared that not all that much blood had been lost. Duzell stared wide-eyed after the vampire, silent as the grave. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have rushed off," Phelios moaned. Duzell looked back at his distressed sibling. The blond's brow was creased in worry and self-reproach. Duzell brought his hand up to rest over the pale hand pressing the kerchief to the bite.

"I'm all right," Duzell said, gently pulling Phelios hand away. He checked under the cloth. "It's not even bleeding anymore." Phelios nodded and pulled away, calming his pounding heart. Duzell was sheathing his dagger, the stained handkerchief still resting on his shoulder. Duzell stared almost vacantly at the ground, his hair creating a curtain that framed his face, lost in thought. Phelios glanced longingly toward the road no longer visible through the trees and the dark.

"Let's go. We're not very far now and I don't want us out here a minute longer than we have to be," Phelios said. His voice seemed to jolt his pensive sibling to activity. Duzell nodded, following his twin back to the road. They walked in silence, stepping quickly and carefully as if trying to muffle any noise of their existence. Phelios' clenching grip on his sword had drained his knuckles white. Though Duzell had yet to sling his bow over his shoulder, he held the weapon slack as if not quite registering its presence. His green eyes were focused on the road as he trailed after his brother. Phelios set their pace just short of a run, pressing onward with all possible haste.

--

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**You were warned. I suck at updates TT. But since no one reads VG fiction and I'm talking to myself, it's all good! Some reviews (a review) would be nice. If it's really that boring just tell me, kay YY. I'm a big girl. I don't spam attack people who tell me when I suck.  
**

--

"_I told Duzie that if he got killed this time around I would give birth to his reincarnation. It's the least I could do. No… It was a promise…" _

--

Darres was pacing, clearly on edge and poised to start ripping hair out in chunks at any moment. Ishtar and Vord watched him ware a hole in the carpet, Vord with a fair amount of concern and Ishtar with passive bemusement. She reached into the bowl in front of her and popped a grape into her mouth, slowly chewing. After their formal reception in the Grand Hall the Razenia delegation had retired for the evening and King Vord and the royal couple had retreated to a smaller parlor for a private dinner. It was about then Yara had rushed in, claiming that the Princes had fled into the evening and were nowhere to be found.

"Relax, honey. They've only been gone for about eight hours," Ishtar said, shaking her head at her husband's antics. Darres groaned.

"I can go look for them. It's really no trouble," Vord offered again for the sixth time that night. Ishtar gave an aggravated huff, smacking her elbows down on the tabletop.

"They don't _want_ us to go looking for them. They need freedom. _Free_-dom," she annunciated, wagging her finger at Vord. "I ditched the castle for far longer than a measly couple of hours when I was their age," Ishtar argued, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. Vord grinned at the memory. Darres, however, did not look as amused.

"You also had a very powerful vampire keeping after you," Darres reminded her, coming over to sit down in the chair across from Vord and next to his wife. He immediately started tapping his fingers against the table. Ishtar rolled her eyes.

"Well, then there's nothing to worry about! Duzie's got St. Phelios and Phel's got Duzell. They'll be better off than I was! Unless they kill each other." Ishtar paused at this last thought. It really was a very valid possibility. Darres sighed, dropping his head into his hands, not amused by his wife's joke in the least. They both knew that neither of the boys had retained memories of their former lives. Although, there had been a brief period when Duzell had taken to biting the palace staff, but he had been teething at the time and as he never grew in any fangs his parents had decided not to worry about the possibly vampiric behavior. He grew out of it eventually, anyways.

The sound of running footsteps caused the three adults to look up. A staccato rapping at the door sent Darres toppling over his chair in haste and throwing the door open. Balan stood in the doorway, fleshy face red from exertion.

"The Princes have returned and Prince Duzell has been injured!" he ejaculated with as much force as he could around desperate, sucking breaths. Vord and Ishtar were on their feet in an instant. Ishtar all but flung herself at Balan, grabbing the stout man's pudgy arm with white, squeezing fingers.

"Where are my babies?" she demanded.

"The kitchens, Majesty. They came in through the servants' door. Lady Selen is with them at present." Ishtar wasted no time, grabbing a handful of her skirts and taking down the corridor as fast as she could toward the kitchens. Balan, Darres, and Vord wasted little time running after her.

Darres and Vord made it their first, outstripping the Queen on the covered stone path leading to the separate kitchen building. They burst in with all the former gusto of their rescuing-damsels-fighting-the-bad-guys days. Duzell was seated at the rough wooden staff table, his shirt and vest removed, while Selen fussed over him with a damp cloth and a roll of bandages. Phelios was resting by the pantry door against the smooth clay wall, a glass of water in his hand. Both boys looked exhausted and dirty.

"I'm fine, grandma!" Duzell grumbled, resisting the remarkably well-preserved woman's ministrations. The former general was dabbing at the dried blood when the door slammed open.

"Duzell! Phelios!" their father exclaimed, rushing to the table and his purportedly injured son. At the sight of the bloodied cloth he turned to Selen, silently demanding she make everything all right as she had when he was a boy. The terror of the past hours had considerably worn him down. Selen gave him a reassuring smile.

"It's already healing up nicely. He shouldn't even have scars," she said soothingly, continuing to dab at her grandson's shoulder. Darres bent down, examining his son. Vord turned and ran an eye over the unusually reticent Phelios. The older twin appeared to be unharmed and was coolly watching the proceedings from the wall, dangling the glass in one hand.

"What happened?" Darres asked, gaze steady and demanding as he waited for his son's explanation. Duzell endured the gaze uncomfortably, shifting in his seat. He looked about to speak when the door banged against the wall for a second time and a winded Ishtar flew into the room. Her eyes first lighted on her husband and son and her focus did not waver.

"Are you all right? What happened? We were so worried about you!" Vord almost snorted. Classic Iahtar. Saying one thing while doing another and still managing to make everybody around her believe she meant it.

"I'm fine, Mom," Duzell said, rather bored with the phrase by that point in time. Ishtar seemed to accept this assurance readily enough and flung her arms around her son, complexly blocking Selen from getting at his shoulder. Selen just smiled, dropping the cloth onto the tabletop.

"My poor widdle Duzie-Woozie," Ishtar cooed, pressing her lips to her son's forehead. Duzie looked vaguely consternated at his mother's childish behavior and sent her an aggravated look that she ignored with ease. Or it might have just been a reaction to being called 'widdle'. Ishtar suddenly looked up, her eyes scanning the room. "Where's Phel?" she demanded. Her oldest pushed off the wall, coming over to the little group with a summoned smile.

"Here, Mom. I'm fine, too. Sorry for running off on you guys like that. We didn't mean to be away for quite so long," Phelios added. He would have a fantastic excuse ready for presentation the moment anyone should ask. He always did.

"Well, it looks like you boys were attacked by an animal," Selen added, nodding toward the bite mark in Duzell's shoulder. The boys exchanged a look and Phelios repressed a shudder.

"Not quite," Phelios began hesitantly, unsure whether to lie about the preceding night or not. The moment the choice occurred to him he knew the truth would have to be issued. Vampire bites were tricky and very dangerous. Just the quick bite the female vampire had managed might give her a modicum of control over his precious brother. Phelios' Holy Magic was strong, but he and, though Duzell would deny it, his brother still relied on the mentoring and advice of the surrounding adults too much to handle a vampire bite on their own.

"We were attacked," Duzell supplied in his twin's silence. Shame at having been lured and trapped so easily stayed Phelios from diving in to an account. He'd much rather had his brother tell it. "By a vampire." Selen froze, her eyes snapping to Duzell's dark eyes, her expression stony. Ishtar's grip on her son intensified as four faces grimly turned to the young Prince.

"Are you sure?" Vord demanded, taking a step toward Duzell. The cool glare was affirmation enough for the Princes 'uncle'. Selen's lips moved to snap a question.

"We were about three miles north of the castle on the main road," Phelios supplied, already knowing what his grandmother wished to hear and knowing he had to take part in the telling.

"That close in…" Darres muttered, his brows drawn in and his mouth pulled in to a grimace as he and Vord shared an uneasy look.

After the death of the Vampire Marquis Sharlen and the apparent 'domestication' of their King, the vampire forces had seemed to dwindle into nothing. Pressure from a unified human front in Pheliosta and the loss of a strong leader had forced the remaining vampires in reclusion, allegedly in the north past the mountains. The great vampire force that once held the known world in terror was now praying off of stray humans living in border colonies. That a vampire had come so far south was either a fluke or a very bad omen.

"We haven't had word of an attack within Pheliosta for nearly two years," Selen asserted. She pursed her lips. While it all seemed to be purely coincidental, that the first vampire attack in a few years should be on one of the Princes was unsettling. "You boys are lucky to be alive!" Seien rounded on her grandsons, a spark burning in her eyes. "Still, to think you handled a vampire all by yourself! I'm very proud of you! Not many fifteen year olds could do that," she beamed, rising out of her seat to give Phelios a smack on the back and then sinking back down to ruffle Duzell's hair. Duzell tried resolutely not to scowl. He suddenly knew where his father had picked up the infuriating habit.

Phelios shifted uneasily, thinking of the vampire's erratic behavior. He looked to his twin and as if sensing his brother's scrutiny and knowing his mind from the gaze Duzell went still, his clod hands resting on top of Queen Ishtar's smaller, but near-identical pair. Phelios was quietly trying to catch his twin's eyes to no avail. Duzell might as well have been made out of stone.

"Well, the vampire that attacked us was crazy," Phelios supplied when it became apparent that Duzell was not going to twitch let alone speak. Phelios found himself with the room's attention. "She was trying to attack me and Duzie stopped her, so she went at him. Then she was screaming and crying like a psycho. She took off before I even had a chance to spell her." Duzell swallowed at the memory, his fingers curling searchingly over his mothers before relaxing again.

"Vampire's can tell things about a person from the taste of their blood," Duzell said. "She wasn't mad, she was terrified. And she wasn't that way until after she'd bitten me." He turned his head instinctively toward his mother. "Why would she be afraid of me?" Ishtar dropped her head to her shoulder and smiled at her son.

"Because you're the reincarnation of the dread Vampire King Duzell! Haven't we told you this before?" she asked reaching out a finger to flick his nose affectionately. Duzell could not have looked more shocked if she'd hauled back and smacked him. Phelios too was giving his mother and incredulous stare.

"You can't be serious," Duzell muttered, eyes riveted to his mother's face. He knew his mother was quirky. He thought she'd been joking! Ishtar grinned, not backing down.

"Why not? I promised Duzie that if he died that I'd give birth to his reincarnation." Her smile turned affectionate, almost doting. "That's you, baby." Duzell gaped slack-jawed at his her dopily smiling face. Slowly, as if his brain hadn't quite caught up with what he was hearing, Duzell turned to his father.

"Is she on drugs?" he demanded, meeting his father's gaze head on. Darres sighed, not quite believing that he was actually having this conversation.

"It's why we named you Duzell and Phelios. We have been over this before," Darres said, placing a hand on his son's shoulder in resigned sympathy. He seemed infinitely more attuned to the boy's distress than Ishtar. Duzell turned pleading eyes on Selen and Vord. Seien shrugged and shook her head in bewilderment to indicate her neutrality. Vord, however, gave him a tiny, half-quirked smile.

"From what I know, it's true, Kiddo." In fact, Vord found it almost glaringly obvious. The young Prince was very similar to the 'Duzell' that had come to La Naan with Ishtar's face. Phelios gave a loud sigh, startling his twin. The fairer Prince had crossed his arms and was gazing at his brother with a bemused glimmer in his big blues.

"You mean you really didn't believe it?" Phelios asked with the same tone one would use to address a child who didn't believe in gravity until the apple hit them on the head. Duzell looked at his twin askance.

"You did?" he snapped. Duzell was leaning forward in his chair, poised to jump up. Ishtar's hand on his arm seemed to be the impediment keeping the youth seated. Phelios nodded sagely.

"Of course I did. Why would our parents lie to us?" Duzell stood up, sliding from his mother's grip and shaking his head of black hair sending it splaying across the skin of his shoulders and chest. Duzell gathered up his ruined shirt and dirt-crusted leather vest. He despairingly looked around the room.

"I'm going to bed," he mumbled before turning and marching out the door, eager to be away from his clearly delusional family. No one moved to hinder him, although Ishtar did give him a kiss on the cheek before he left.

"I'm pretty beat, so I'm off, too," Phelios announced. He took his time leaving and hugged his grandmother, shook hands with Vord, kissed his mother, and bid his father goodnight. As her second son disappeared through the kitchen door Ishtar turned to look questioningly at her husband.

"What do you think has Duzie so blue?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Next chapter! Still no reviews /sigh/. What a thankless pursuit is mine!  
**

--

_Duzell looked up in shocked surprise. _

_"You care about me?" Ishtar smiled._

_"I have no parents, brothers, sisters... nobody. What little family I do have is either trying to kill me, or put a ring on my finger just to get their claws on the throne. To my subjects, I'm a way to maintain Phelios' bloodline. Nothing more. In other words, I don't really give a rat's ass about anyone beside myself, and that's pretty much how it's always been." Ishtar's grin brightened as she reached up to infold her shape-changing kyawl in a hug. "So, I promised myself that if I ever found something I truly cared about I'd take very good care of it. I care about you."  
_

--

Duzell was taking it out on the training dummy. Displacing his anger onto an inanimate object might not have been as satisfying, but it did serve to take the edge off. Honestly, he spends the first fifteen years of his life believing he's the victim of a rather cruel joke perpetuated by his slightly touched mother and listening to his teachers condemn the Vampire King to hell, only to find out he's the supposed reincarnation of the Vampire King.

Duzell brought the sword up high, swinging down with a force that nearly clove the wooden dummy in two. He yanked the sword out with a twist of his arm, sending splinters flying. The dummy, now worthless for anything but firewood, was shunned as Duzell began working parries, moving through the motions with thoughtless grace.

It wasn't even a logically sound statement. He'd believe Phelios being the reincarnation of his namesake. At least he _looked_ like that goody-goody: blond and slender. One would have to be grievously sight-impaired to not know the black-haired prince was his mother's son. Secondly, if the first Duzell was a vampire and his kyawl reincarnation was a vampire then why wasn't _he_ a vampire? Duzell was 99 certain that he was human. He'd never had strange cravings for blood, his teeth were normal, and he'd never been able to cast Blood Magic. Then again, no one had ever endeavored to teach him blood magic. And weren't vampire reincarnates supposed to _remember _their past lives?

Duzell twisted his body to the side, bringing his sword to the right in a slash. He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the cautious crunch of footsteps until they were abreast of the gate. Duzell closed his eyes and continued the ritualistic movements. The footsteps crept closer, obviously aiming for stealth.

"What is it, Mom?" he called, hearing the latch lift. An aggravated huff answered him.

"How'd you know it was me?" the Queen asked, stepping out of the shadows and bounding into the practice area. She was dressed in a tunic and tights with a bow and quiver slung over her slim shoulder. Duzell just gave a secretive smile and continued through his parries. Ishtar pouted, but didn't seem that put-off by her son's reticence. "Just came to see you. We're working our archery, remember?" she said, brandishing the bow. Duzell stopped, letting the sword rest at his side. Strands of glossy black were clinging to his cheeks and neck with sweat.

"Ok," he acquiesced, walking to the weapons rack at the edge of the packed-dirt training yard. He placed the sword on the rack and reached for one of the bows, bending a few experimentally in his hands before making a selection. Ishtar was hovering in the background, watching him. He knew she had come after him to 'talk' about the night before. She was quite tactless that way. It was one of the things he loved about her.

Another support against him being the reincarnation of a Vampire King. Vampires weren't capable of love. Everyone said so.

"So what's got you so down, Duzie?" Ishtar asked, spryly jumping the fence to get to the archery field. Duzell followed her example, jumping the low wooden structure with ease. He shrugged, concentrating on stringing his bow.

"Nothing," he protested. He pulled the bow back and released, feeling the string snap past his wrist. It was a fairly good short bow.

"So you were just severely offended by the wooden dummy. Did it say something mean about your mama?" Ishtar teased, grabbing an arrow from her quiver and hastily nocking it to the bow. She pulled back, biting her lip as she took aim at the target. With squinted eyes, she let it fly. The arrow skimmed the edge of the target and spun off into the trees. Ishtar cursed, reaching for another arrow.

"I just find it all a little far-fetched," her son explained. He calmly grabbed an arrow, nock, draw, and releasing seamlessly. The arrow sunk into the target like butter. Ishtar fired again, hitting the edge, but not sending the arrow very deep. She handed her son an arrow from her quiver and watched him draw it.

"I know it might sound crazy, but you really are the Vampire King Duzell!" There was a loud twang as the prince's arrow went skidding into the trees a good twenty feet above the targets. "And Phel is really St. Phelios. Duzie told me that before he died." Duzell slammed down the bow. He'd just about had enough of this.

"Well, there must have been a mistake. I'm not even a vampire! I can draw Sida just as easily as you and Phelios. How many vampires can do that?" he demanded hotly. His mother set her bow against the ground, leaning on it for support.

"Well, of course you can draw Sida. You're a prince of Pheliosta!" Duzell was tempted to start pulling at his hair until he recalled that it was a favorite gesture of Darres'.

"Mom, vampires can't draw Holy Swords. Besides, I don't remember anything from my past life. Aren't vampires supposed to be able to carry over their consciousness to the next incarnation?" he reasoned, quoting one of his history lessons. His mother shrugged, either ignorant of or uninterested in the answer.

"Maybe you just repressed them?" she suggested. "I wonder if they have therapy for people who repress memories of their past lives…" Duzell scowled, stooping to sweep up the abused bow. If he was going to have this conversation, he wanted to be shooting at something.

"So you're saying you _want_ me to reap vengeance on my brother?" Duzell drawled, sending another arrow slamming in just to the right of his first mark. Ishtar frowned, not taking her eyes off her son.

"Actually, given the circumstances, I was hoping we could avoid that. I know I promised to help you out, but maybe it'd be better to wait until the next life to kill Phelios. Or maybe you don't need to kill him at all! That could be why you repressed your memories…" she added, tapping a finger to her chin in mock-thoughtfulness. Duzell glared at the target and let another arrow fly. Dead center.

"You've got to help me out here. I think there's something wrong with my stance," Ishtar grumbled, shuffling her toe against the white line drawn across the grass. Duzell put down his own bow and moved to his mother's side. He gently placed a hand on her elbow, guiding it up until it was perpendicular with the bow. He told her to move her feet wider and not turn her head like that when she fired. The next time she released the bow, it smoothly slid into the target only a few inches from the center. Ishtar beamed up at her son. "Very nice! By the way, how would you like to go to La Naan with your brother?"

Duzell blinked slowly, disoriented by the rapid changes in subject. He hadn't been to La Naan in a few years and never without his parents. He wasn't exactly fond of the province either. He found the princes odd and his Great Aunt Ramia overbearing in the most obnoxious ways. La Naan was also south of Pheliosta, in the opposite direction of where he'd been attacked. Duzell figured he might as well go ahead and ask.

"Why La Naan?" Ishtar grinned up at him, waving an arrowhead in his face as she spoke.

"They're coming up on the annual Martial Arts Tourney! You and Phel are old enough to compete this year. And you'd be able to get away from here, right? This place can get real boring real quickly," she supplied. Duzell took his time considering this. A chance to beat his brother into the ground in front of a stadium full of spectators… It might not be so bad.

"Sounds neat," he said.

"Good I'll have a much easier time convincing Phel to go if you've already agreed," she declared, slinging her bow across her shoulder. "Well, I'm heading in," she announced. Duzell looked at the grand total of four shots she had fired and raised a dark brow.

"Weren't you going to practice?" he asked her. Ishtar looked at the target, as if contemplating it, then shrugged it off without a second thought.

"Yup. It was fun. Mommy's busy, busy though." She rose up on her tiptoes to deliver a kiss on the cheek. "Glad you agreed to go, sweetie." With that, she scrambled back over the fence, dumped her bow and arrow next to the storage rack and headed back for the castle at a livened pace. At the edge of the yard, she turned to wave over her shoulder. "Bye, Duzie!" she called before she was over the fence again and out of sight completely. Duzell sighed and brought up a hand to rub at his temple.


	5. Chapter 5

**Yay! Thank you for the reviews . You're all darlings. You're absolutely right, too, but with such a small fanbase one'd think that if the chapter got 100+ hits it'd get more than 3 reviews. Of course, this is me being a hypocrite as I'm terrible about reviewing, but what's the point of being an author if you can't whine at your readers? : D**

**So, the next chapter. Someone asked about Laphiji and Seiliez... Well here's the start to their story C ; **

-

_Vord leaned his chin against the back of his hand, watching the cloak wrapped girl. There wasn't any point at watching the tournament below. There could only ever be one outcome. _

"_Well… This fight was over before it begun. Laphiji would never beat Seiliez," Vord said. Ishtar looked up in surprise, her interest evident by the look on her face. Vord turned to look at the fighters, his eyes tracking his brothers. "He loves him too much."_

"_What?" Vord didn't even glance at her. He was looking at the young man in the arena throwing up defensive moves, but making no attack. _

"_He's in love with his own brother. Pathetic, huh? Not to mention gross." Vord pressed his cheek against his fist. 'So sad.' He thought. 'You could have been so much more, Laphiji…' _

--

The tall grasses extending out from the castle walls seemed to swell like waves in the summer breeze. The days in Pheliosta were still quite warm, the sun baking the earth with it's persistent rays. They'd suffered more then a few forest fires near the surrounding villages that year. General Darres had gone as far as to warn the local inhabitants to not leave fires unattended and to avoid bonfires as much as possible. The area surrounding Pelostia Castle was primarily trade based with the agricultural communities existing on the fringe of the city. With the castle at it's center, Pheliosta sprawled in all directions. Markets and trade shops sprung up on all sides of the castle walls, with artisan and courtier residences just beyond. The forgers of cruder ware were further still. Smelters, cooper, blacksmiths, and loggers set up shops a mere stones through from the core of the city. Past that the farmers and ranchers built their homes and made their living in small sub-village communities.

The Corgwen Trade Road passed west of the capital city, branching off in various directions as it came closer to the markets and residences.No one knew when or why the Corgwen Trade Road had been built, only that it had been their since before St. Phelios' time and consequently before Pheliosta had been formed. The Main Road reached from north to south, starting miles above of the castle and running directly through the city while the North Road cut a diagonal line that ran tangent to Pheliosta's city limits, connecting with the Main Road at a solitary intersection. It was said that if one followed the North Road all the way to the end, past Zi Alda and the Druned Mountains the road would lead straight to the old vampire stronghold. It was a looped road that spread almost the breadth of the Kingdom running south from Pheliosta through La Naan and then curving northeast to Ci Xeneth and eventually Mil Seii.

It was on this road, the North Road, that four horsemen were making the day and a half journey to the castle in La Naan. La Naan's youngest adoptive prince, the current King of Razenia was leading the party, one of Lieutenants riding at his side. The King was a strong, able-bodied man at thirty-seven with the dark skin of the Razenian royal family and a full head and trimmed mustache of shiny blond hair. The King was a large man, by far the tallest of the group, with broad shoulders and large, sword-calloused hands. His features were sharp, but not unkind, making him look every bit the warrior king.

The two boys that followed behind were much less lordly in stature, but not for want of trying. They were both decked out in shoulder-guards, chest-plates and capes, all bearing the insignia of the Pheliostian royal family. Each had a sword at his hip and a dagger tucked into his boot, but their young arms and faces hardly gave the impression of wither being a seasoned warrior. Both were thin, pretty, and almost effeminate in appearance; a curse, no doubt, delivered to them by their Queen mother. Duzell's hair was tied up in a high ponytail for the sake of practicality, but the change in style did nothing to harden the softness in his face or strengthen the delicate curve of his nose. There was nothing that could even be attempted for Phelios. The boy looked beguilingly angelic and no amount of armaments seemed capable of dampening the effect.

"She's already started learning to sew," Vord was informing his 'nephews' from his barrel-chested bull of a horse. "And she's good at it too! Still needs Falan's help naturally, but she's got a great eye for that sort of thing. She's going to be very accomplished, just like her mother." Vord, being an adoptive son of the La Naan royal family, had insisted on accompanying the princes and taking the opportunity to visit with his mother and brothers. This had led to a discussion of how the King's wife and daughter would also be traveling to La Naan to stay for a few week. After spending the night at an inn the conversation had resumed itself the proceeding morning moving in turn to Vord's favorite subject for the past six years, the Princess Ranee of Razenia. Phelios was smiling politely, nodding along with Vord's extolments.

"She'll make a wonderful wife, one day," Phelios commented with a knowing smile. Duzell shifted uneasily in the saddle, sending his brother a sharp rebuking glare. Phelios ignored his brother, all innocence and sweetness. Vord laughed appreciatively at the compliment

"She will indeed! It'll be finding a husband that's good enough for her that'll be the problem. Her mother and I would both like to see her on the throne of Ci Xeneth," Vord hinted, with a small smile at the younger prince. Duzell was staring at the back of his dapper grey horses neck as if it were the most fascinating thing in all the world.

All three of them new very well that the match between little Princess Ranee and Prince Duzell was politically perfect. As firstborn, Phelios would inherit the crown of Pheliosta while Duzell was left with only the position as second prince. To remedy this, his parents had considered delegating the throne of Ci Xeneth, one of the four ruling houses under the main throne of Pheliosta, to their youngest. Ci Xeneth had been left without a blood descendant of St. Phelios to rule after the death of Lord Jened, the disappearance of the Holy Warrior Illsaide, and the marriage of Princess Falan. At present, a regent had been appointed until a blood heir could be restored to the throne. It was assumed that once Prince Duzell came of age he would be that heir. The marriage to Princess Ranee, daughter to Ci Xeneth's Princess Falan, would only strengthen the legitimacy of Duzell's appointment. Princess Ranee had the additional attraction of being a direct descendant of Phelios on her mother's side, meaning the marriage would be 'in the family' in adherence with national law. Duzell, however, was less than ecstatic at the prospect of betrothal to a six-year-old.

"She's going to be tall, too, like her Dad." Vord was back to talking about his precious daughter. "Growing like a weed," he smacked the side of his saddle for emphasis. "Like a beanstalk!" Duzell tried to conceal a grimace.

"My Lord! We're approaching the castle," the Lieutenant called, alerting his master to their approach. Vord turned and squinted into the horizon. Sure enough, just cresting over a skyline of trees and multi-story buildings peeked the tips of the grey and white towers that made up La Naan Castle. The closer in to the castle they got, the noisier their surroundings became.

While Duzell was not overly fond of the La Naan nobility, he did find the city to be one of the most interesting in the country. The impending Martial Arts Tournament had only increased the sense of excitement and import on the streets. In town, the houses were built as multi-story dwellings, crammed in side-by-side. People swarmed the streets, calling and pushing. Warriors lurked in doorways boasting to the locals or lining up at food stands. Patrols of guards marched the streets in neat little lines of two or three. Occasionally, the flutter of a dress or the flash of bare skin could be caught in one of the upper story windows that would be dripping with cajoling girls once the sun went down. The city nearly throbbed with an urgency that the polite market town of Pheliosta Castle only managed to achieve on the rarest of dates.

King Vord forged on, navigating the winding streets with practiced ease. He greeted those who called to him with warmth and even called to a few people he recognized. It was difficult to wade the crowd on horseback, but the effort was by no means dull. In what seemed to be very little time, the four companions had arrived at the castle and were being ushered in through the great grey doors. La Naan Castle seemed to have been built half way before the architect kicked it and the replacement had decided to finish up in a completely different style. Parts of the castle were gothic and severe with dark grey stone and heavy tapestries while the rest seemed to have been constructed with marble and limestone for the brightest effect possible. The party was led to the Great Hall, a prime example of gothic masonry with a high vaulted ceiling, chiseled walls and a long rectangular floor plan. Lady Ramia was waiting with the Queen and Princess of Razenia to greet them.

"Papa!" squealed the little princess, leaping from her mother's side and barreling headlong down the hall to catch her father in a flying tackle. Vord snatched up the little ball of energy and spun her into his arms. She was golden-brown like her father but with Falan's lumpy silver hair. She began jabbering animatedly at Vord, only pausing for breath when she became too winded to continue. Vord grinned along to her one-sided conversation as he bore her back toward her waiting mother. Queen Falan greeted her husband with a shy smile, giving him a chaste peck on the cheek when he leaned in. Ramia was much more forceful, grabbing her youngest by the collar of his shirt and forcing him into the closest hug she could with a six-year-old princess between them. She rounded on her grandnephews with equal intensity.

"Phelios! Duzell!" The boys bowed respectfully and Ramia bobbed into a curtsy-- quite the trick at her age. "How are you?" She directed the question at both of them, as so many did. Despite their jarring differences, the boys were still subject to 'two for one' categorization that came from being twins. They both issued the customary reply with little attention paid to the actual question. "I'm sorry my son's aren't here to greet you. Laphiji's overseeing the competition this year and Seiliez is… Well, no one ever knows where Seiliez is," she exclaimed a touch gruffly. Duzell wasn't exactly sorry for the loss. Seiliez and Laphiji shared a closeness that extended beyond mere brotherly love. While both could be considered attractive, particularly the beautiful Seiliez, they were still adoptive brothers, raised in the same household as siblings. That, and individually they were both quite strange and their being together only doubled the effect. Duzell found that the whole thing gave him the creeps.

"Phelios and Duzell here are going to compete in the tournament," Vord announced from where he and his wife were being climbed over by their daughter the way a monkey might climb a tree. Lady Ramia's eyes lit up in intrigue.

"We'd like to try our luck. Find out how we rank in the scheme of things," Phelios said with one of those easy diplomatic smiles. His fingers were running lightly over the hilt of his sword, tracing the designs etched into the cross-guard.

"We'd be honored, but I should let you know that the winner is _always_ from La Naan. Why Laphiji won five years in a row before he stopped competing! And Vord one a few himself before Falan took him away." Ramia's boast was harmless and well meant and everybody knew it. "Oh! And I have someone to introduce you to!" Vord looked up in surprise at this and even Falan seemed mystified at the news. "Martin, call in Lady Elenor," she addressed one on the valets waiting near at hand. He bowed low before disappearing through the doorway. "It's the most fantastic news! I had to twist some arms to get it to happen, but it looks like this is going to finally work out."

The valet returned with a pretty young lady at his side. She was slight of frame, clearly highborn, with a prominent forehead and pulled back brown hair. She didn't look much older than twenty with full brown eyes and a smooth face. She curtsied to the room and afterward seemed incapable of initiating or maintaining eye contact. Lady Ramia motioned for the girl and she was immediately at the elderly Queen's side.

"This," Queen Ramia puffed out her chest as she addressed her audience, "is Lady Elenor, Laphiji's fiancé."

Audible gasps were heard. Vord about near dropped his daughter.

"Laphiji's what?" he blundered out before his wife rapped him on the arm for his rudeness. Vord immediately grumbled an apology visibly struggling to mask his surprise.

"Lady Elenor and Laphiji are going to get married," Lady Ramia stated, as if her youngest hadn't quite grasped the meaning behind the word fiancé. Vord looked like he was doing his best not to openly splutter. He was eyeing his mother with suspicion as if expecting her to shout 'Joke!' and fall down laughing.

"It's lovely to meet you, Lady Elenor," Phelios intervened, always ready to smooth over a tricky situation. The Lady blushed at being spoken to directly and dropped another curtsy. The girl was a mouse. Duzell figured that whatever 'arm-twisting' had gone on had been aimed exclusively at Laphiji. There must have been blackmail involved, but Duzell couldn't imagine what was so precious to Laphiji that he'd forsake his beloved Seiliez for it. A few feet away, Vord seemed to be drawing the same conclusions, his dubious stare deepening.

It was at that moment Prince Seiliez was hapless enough to arrive. He swept into the hall in self-absorption. The prince didn't even notice he had company until he was five solid steps into the hall and away from the exit. When he did look up, it was with surprise written in ten-foot letters across his face. The surprise was almost instantaneously replaced with a blank neutrality. He was standing straight as a washboard and tense as a cornered rabbit.

"Seiliez, you're here." The oldest prince of La Naan didn't even look at his mother when she spoke. In fact he appeared to be doing his danmdest not to look at anything in particular. He gave a shallow, stretched smile. "Good... Phelios and Duzell are going to be competing in the tournament." Seiliez didn't appear to be greatly affected by the news, but he did manage a courteous nod in the princes direction.

"Excuse me, but I'm a bit busy at the moment," he claimed, taking a step backwards. "Pardon me." He turned and strode from the room as if the entire encounter had never happened. Lady Ramia tutted at her son's hastily made exit, but found little room to complain as Seiliez was responsible for running half the country in his mother's place.

"Yes, well, why don't we get you all situated into your room, then?" Lady Ramia said, waving an arm to conduct her guests in the desired direction. Phelios brushed past his brother, catching the dark-haired teens eye. Duzell shrugged at his twin's silent question and followed Lady Ramia out of the Great Hall. What was it his business who Laphiji got engaged to?

--

Seiliez swept out of the Great Hall ignoring guards and courtiers as he passed them. He was calm. He was composed. He was so fucking serene St. Phelios didn't have jack on him. Seiliez pivoted sharply on his heel, gliding up another palace corridor, this one all marble and big, open windows. The courtyard could be seen from here. White lilies grew at the edge of a crystal clear pond. Seiliez didn't even pause in his stride. Tense as he was, his movements were still fluid and graceful and his features undeniably beautiful. At the age of forty-one Prince Seiliez hardly looked older than he had at twenty-five. His hair was still a flowing, pale yellow and his eyes still a limpid violet. His nose, chin, and cheekbones were delicate and ideal despite the scowl engraved across his full lips.

Abruptly he stopped, the long tunic he wore swirling about his thighs with the lingering inertia. Seiliez pressed his palms against the windowsill, gazing anxiously out into the courtyard. A noise behind him grabbed his attention. His eyes snapped to the side and he twisted just enough to see the intruder out of the corner of his pretty eyes. Laphiji stood only a few feet away, arms hanging limp at his sides. He was gazing at the blond with surprise and… longing. Laphiji took a cautious step forward, raising a hand to let his fingers trail slowly through that perfect, soft hair. Seiliez hesitated for a moment and then reeled back from the touch.

"Seiliez…"

"What are you doing here? I thought you were overseeing tournament business." Seiliez's tone was scalding and disdainful. He turned to face the courtyard again. Laphiji paused, lifting a stack of papers Seiliez hadn't even noticed as an explanation. Seiliez sighed, seeming to regain a modicum of his composure. "You're fiancé's in the Great Hall with mother. The princes and Vord are with her. Seeing the two of them… it's uncanny. Like a flashback right to twenty years ago." A light chill swept up Seiliez spine causing him to shiver. Laphiji took a step closer, then seemed to think better of it and stopped.

"Seiliez," the taciturn prince tried again. "I don't…"

"That's it though," Seiliez snapped. "It doesn't really matter what you do or don't think. The people know! They have for a while." The blond turned to face his adoptive brother, violet eyes deadly serious. "You have _no_ legitimacy, Laphiji." A dark expression passed across the beautiful face. Laphiji flinched away as if the words had caused a physical hurt. Seiliez dropped his gaze. "You should go see the princes. They'll want to register," he murmured, pushing away from the window. He was looking at Laphiji's dexterous hands. He still wrapped his wrists after all these years… Seiliez straightened up. This was for the best. Without another word the blond turned from his once-lover and glided down the corridor, leaving Laphiji standing mute in his wake.

--

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter was pretty boring to write, so I hope it dosen't read boring! T.T Things should pick up soon (I think...).**

**On a more constructive note, I've come to realize how darn complex Pheliosta geography is and while in the last chapter I made up a great deal of it, I want to try to stick as close to canon as possible. So, as I understand it, Pheliosta, La Naan, Ci Xenith, Mil Seii, and Zi Alda are all 'fiefdoms' of The Kingdom of Pheliosta. Additionally, the main cities where the royal families reside are named after the fief. Ex... Pheliosta Castle in Pheliosta fiefdom in The Kingdom of Pheliosta. Confusing, much? I actually drew a map to orient myself... As soon as I find a scanner, I'll post a link to it.**

**Anyway, happy reading! Thank you Inez for the support and all my reviewers!!**

--

_Lapiji looked up at his older brother from the sick bed. His chest and arms were heavily bandaged and Seiliez sat at his bedside. _

"_You really don't want to say goodbye?" he asked his adoptive sibling. Seiliez shook his head. _

"_No. I'll let Vord do it. After all, he's the one that refused Sharlen's offer. He should have the honor." Laphiji looked up questioningly at the peculiar words. Seiliez smiled, placing his chin in his hand. "He loves her so much." _

"_I'm sure we're all better off this way," Lahpiji said in an attempt at consolation._

"_Brother, you've always been such a lousy liar." Seiliez's face was knowing and Laphiji didn't bother to correct him. _

--

The coliseum was packed. Everyone had gathered to cheer for their favored fighter during the opening ceremonies. During the course of the next four days the crowd would thin as people wandered of to experience the near-festival atmosphere of La Naan during the martial arts tournament. On the last day, the stands would e full again to see the duel between the finalists. Only the true fight-enthusiasts ever tried to watch all five days.

Phelios and Duzell marched on to the arena floor with all the other participants. The two managed to achieve a look of complete opposition standing next to each other. Phelios was decked out in white and blue armor with legsaram charms carved into his boots, belt, bracers, and chest plate. Duzell was in matt black armor with his hair pulled into a low ponytail and wrapped in black cloth with only an end bunch of ebony hair sticking out at the bottom. He wore no charms, but for a protection ruelle on his wrist. The legsaram metal had always made his skin itch.

The herald was shouting out names at the crowd in raid procession. "Tio of Knoll! Louis of La Naan! Umi of Ci Xenith! Prince Phelios of Pheliosta!" A great cheer went up from the crowd. Phelios smiled cordially, waving gracefully to the mob. "Prince Duzell of Pheliosta!" That confused rumble that always accompanied his name ran amidst the cheers for a prince of Pheliosta. Duzell was used to it and he'd even gotten to the point where he didn't take it personally. In fact, if anyone was to be embarrassed by the crowd's reaction it should be his mother.

The announcer promptly moved on to the next fighter in line. Duzell crossed his arms impatiently, waiting for the pomp to end and the fight to start. His eyes scanned the crowd. People from La Naan were always a vibrant, varied lot. Colors of all sorts graced the coliseum stands. A particular shade of intense green snared his wandering gaze. A young girl was staring at him. Not with that 'star struck' look of an admiring citizen, but with an unwavering intensity that seemed almost desperate in its nature. The stare bothered him.

Duzell locked eyes with the strange girl, probably no older than him, expecting her to look away. Her eyes widened and grew hungry, but did not turn aside. She sighed, the small movement sending tendrils of rust red hair brushing over her cheeks. A man in the crowd jostled her. She looked away and suddenly, as if frightened, turned and fled. Duzell coolly watched her scurry into the crowd. People from La Naan were certainly the strangest in the kingdom.

"Prince Duzell versus Clark at three o'clock!" boomed the tournament herald.

"Finally," Duzell said, shaking out the cricks in his neck. Phelios sent him a half-smile of sympathy.

"Prince Phelios versus Tio at four thirty!" Duzell looked down the line at 'Tio'. Poor bastard didn't stand a chance. As little faith as Duzell had in his father, one simply wasn't born the son of 'the Greatest Swordsman in Pheliosta' to be less than tournament Top Five.

"Poor Clark. To come all the way from Zi Alda and be out of the tournament in the first round," Phelios said with a grin, winking at his brother. Duzell glowered and then shrugged, trying to ignore that he'd once again been thinking along the same lines as his twin.

"Good luck with Tio."

"Yes." Phelios looked down the line at his adversary, wearing that soft deceptive smile of his.

"Fighters dismissed!" rang out over the arena. Duzell turned immediately and headed toward the armory where the fighters traditionally waited for their turn in battle.

"I didn't see Uncle Laphiji around during the opening," Phelios said, instantly at his twins side. Duzell inclined his head.

"I wasn't really looking," he intoned, concentrating on getting his effects so he could head back to the relative calm of the castle interior. Phelios gave a low, thoughtful hum gathering together his own belongings.

"Lady Elenor seems nice. Not terribly beautiful, but fair enough." Duzell was unresponsive. He really didn't care much for Lady Elenor or her affairs. He may have inherited his mother's looks but he seemed to have missed on her need to always be deeply intrenched in other people's lives. Undeterred, Phelios tried again. "Don't you think it's strange? About Seiliez and Laphiji?" Duzell swung his pack over his shoulder and made for the stables.

"Strange is synonymous with Uncle Seiliez and Laphiji," Duzell dropped his bag and reached for his saddle, not waiting for the overtaxed and overrun stable boy to get around to his horse. Phelios followed suit.

"Really, they were inseparable last Harvest Festival and now Laphiji's engaged to Ramia's choice of girl. I hadn't really thought Laphiji to be one swayed by Lady Ramia's opinion." Duzell shrugged again.

"Maybe they broke up." How was it, exactly, that his brother always managed to lure him in to these gossip sessions?

"Perhaps. I could see Uncle Seiliez getting engaged, if that were the case, but Uncle Laphiji? Not likely, Duzie." Phelios swung up onto his horse. "Coming?" Duzell hurried with the last strap of the saddle before hopping onto his own mount.

"Yeah." Duzell nudged his horse to a walk and out into the swarming streets. The two horses had to walk single file to fit. Phelios was forced to turn and look over his shoulder to continue the conversation.

"Unless Seiliez _made_ Laphiji get engaged," Phelios theorized. Duzell quirked a brow.

"And why would he do that?" This time Phelios shrugged.

"Don't know." Duzell gently shook his head at his brother. A stab of green caught and held him mid-turn. The girl from the stands was standing on the other side of the street staring. Her face was composed, almost serene, but her eyes looked torn. She was watching him, motionless and intense. The girl was certainly spooky. Duzell returned the steadfastness of the gaze, but was unable and unwilling to match the intensity.

"Who's that?" Phelios' voice drew Duzell's attention. By the time he looked back, the girl was gone.

"No one." He quickly brushed the topic aside. "Do you think we'll have to dine with the family tonight?" Phelios laughed.

--

Laphiji finished wrapping his left hand, tying of the end and grabbing the last of the tournament paperwork. The first bell had already rung. They'd be starting the opening ceremonies soon. Laphiji brushed a hand over the side of his dark just-loose-enough pants. Public functions made him nervous, but apparently appearing at celebrated regional events was good for his 'image'. He was about to exit through the arched doorway carved straight into the grey-white granite walls when a soft, diminutive figure stepped through the very same doorway.

Lady Elenor was standing in the doorway, her head bowed. Her brown hair had been swept up into a twist and she was wearing a fashionable green dress that served very well to emphasize her favorable features. There was a prolonged moment of uncertain silence until Lady Elenor finally mustered up the courage to directly address her fiancé.

"Lord Laphiji, do you have a moment? I thought we might s-speak together." The prospect of both of them speaking at all, let alone together, seemed so overwhelming that they lapsed into another length of silence. Eventually, Laphiji looked to the window where the coleseium could be viewed at a distance.

"I'm late," he ventured with a restrained, indicative gesture toward said window. Lady Elenor blushed.

"I-I see. I'm sorry to keep you, but I must speak with you. It will only be a moment…"

Laphiji spared another glance to the window and then nodded his acceptance. He hadn't really wanted to go for the opening procedures and he would only be a few minutes late it seemed. He crossed over to a wooden table with two heavy-backed chairs where he had been working before. Lady Elenor complacently followed him, moving to stand next to a chair. She hesitated, as if unsure of what to do. Quickly realizing what she was waiting for, Laphiji moved to hold her chair for her before taking his own seat. Lady Elenor seemed much more interested in the table design than she did her fiancé despite her earlier words of conviction. At length she spoke without raising her gaze.

"I wish to talk about u-us," she began. Laphiji patiently waited for her to continue. The subject of 'them' was pretty much moot in his mind, but he would listen to whatever Lady Elenor had to say. "I-it is a lady's perogative to seek love and a-a caring husband and it is my wish to know you're t-true feelings," she said. Her hands were folded in a white knuckled grip in her lap. Laphiji raised a brow in surprise. Had his mother made the fatal mistake of engaging him to a romantic? Had Lady Ramia mistaken timidity for complacency in love?

Still, Seiliez wished to see him married. It therefore fell upon Laphiji to reassure his bride and see to it that a wedding took place.

"I am honored to be engaged to you, Lady Elenor." Not bad, if he might say so himself. However, his words did not evoke the desired reaction. Instead of looking assured the young noblewoman looked even more doubtful. Laphiji was at a loss. What else could he say?

"I-I see…" Her gave dipped again and her voice wavered. "I'd hoped…" She suddenly stood up. She was wringing one of her gloves in her hands. "I'm terribly s-sorry to have intruded. I must be going," she stepped away from the table and Laphiji had to reach out to stop her from leaving. His hand fell on her silk-covered arm. She practically squeaked in surprise. Laphiji searched for something to say. In the quiet he could make out light footsteps in the hall. Probably his mother coming to haraunge him about being late. Fine. He surrendered. He'd give them what they both wanted.

"Lady Elenor, I love you."

Lady Elenor gasped, but hers wasn't the only voice. Seiliez was standing in the doorway, raw shock displayed across his face. Laphiji almost thought he looked hurt. He started to go to him before he remembered his hand on Lady Elenor's arm. He looked down at the plain oval face. She was smiling the first real smile he'd ever seen on her reserved features.

"Sorry to intrude. I'll try another room." The severity of the voice instantly brought Laphiji's attention away from his intended. In the brief period of time he'd glanced away Seiliez's face had gone from hurt to frigid. Laphiji wanted to say something. He wanted to come up with a perfect explanation that would rectify everything, but he couldn't say a word. Seiliez turned and walked away from the engaged couple. Lady Elenor was standing there with hope in her eyes and she had raised her bare hand to his wrist and for the first time in his life, he put someone else before Seiliez.

"That's all I wanted to know," Lady Elenor said, trembling and on the verge of tears. Laphiji nodded.

"I must go." Lady Elenor blinked in surprise.

"Oh! The t-tournament. Sorry to have kept you." She let her hand fall from her wrist. Laphiji nodded tersely, but he did not look to the window. Silently, Laphiji moved to the door, heading down the corridor in the opposite direction Seiliez had taken. He needed time and space and quiet. The tournament would have to go on without him.

--

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you Inez, Myka, and Jade for the support!! I'm glad to hear last chapter was liked. There's more Laphiji and Seiliez drama to come. It's not over yet : D. **

--

_Vord smiled into the ruelle mirror. _

"_Well, I'll do some snooping and get back to you if I find anything," he reassured his adoptive brothers. Seiliez head nodded in agreement in the mirror. "Let me talk to Laphiji for a minute, Seiliez," Vord added. _

_Seiliez seemed puzzled, but he handed the mirror over to the taciturn prince. Laphijis' face appeared on the mirror. "I'm not sure how to say this, Laphiji, but…" Vord's voice became softer. "if I were you… I'd be very careful about who sees Seiliez come into your bedroom after dark."_

--

Duzell slowly ate his food, spacing his bites so he'd spend the maximum amount of time chewing and would therefore be spared from having to join the somewhat-forced dinner conversation. During the princes' second day in the city of La Naan things had gone from strange to stranger. Lady Elenor kept braving adoring glances up from her dinnerware at Laphiji only to look away as soon as her gaze found him, like some skittish kitten too afraid to come closer to a beckoning hand. All this was laid over top of a positively Antarctic silence between Laphiji and Seiliez. The two seemed to be making a remarkably dedicated effort to ignoring the other. Duzell had only ever witnessed anything like it on the occasion his father had been accused of not properly rejecting one of the lady Courtiers advances and had been shunned by his mother for well over a week. Lady Ramia was making a gallant effort to overcome the tense atmosphere with constant, innocuous chatter.

"You see, the fighters of Knoll are all so dedicated to the tournament. I hear they hold preliminary matches to see who will go on to the main competition! Last years winner was from Knoll—I forget his name… And the men of Knoll certainly gave Laphiji a time of it when he was competing, didn't they, Laphiji? …Yes. Well, I hope to see what they come up with this year. I think it's likely will see another Knoll fellow become champion this year as well! Ah, provided he can beat our princes'." She stopped to nod at Phelios and Duzell. Phelios smiled and inclined his hand. Duzell shoveled another bite of salad into his mouth.

"We intend to do our best, Lady Ramia." Phelios answered. "With Na Naan racking up so many wins, I think it's Pheliosta's turn to be champion." Falan looked up from wiping dressing off her daughters face.

"You did quite well at the tournament today. Do you and your brother practice often?" she asked politely. Phelios fielded the question, as usual.

"Often enough. Our father's been instructing us since we were old enough to grip a practice sword. Duzell's a might faster with a blade, but he's a lamentable mess with Holy Magic. I usually win our spars." This boast caught Duzell's attention. He put down his fork long enough to glare at his brother.

"My _brother_ only wishes that was true," he corrected. Vord laughed and Falan smiled at the defense.

"Mommy, when can I be in the tournament?" young Ranee burst out, squirming around to kneel on her seat and dislodging her embroidered napkin from her lap. Vord grinned broadly.

"When you're older, Ranee. You'll be the first Razenian champion!" Falan looked distinctly uncomfortable at the prospect. Her expression lost its glow and her smile waned.

"We'll see," she amended, her tone serious for such a usually sweet, good-natured lady.

"Vord, I'm all for your children competing in the tournament when their of age, but they can not compete as a representative of Razenia! The tournament is a strictly national event. They'll have to be honorary representatives of La Naan," Lady Ramia corrected. She looked over at Falan. "Or of Ci Xenith." Vord sighed, but his daughter seemed satisfied, collapsing back into her seat with a contented squeal of delight. She immediately began fencing imaginary opponents with her butter knife. Her mother had to pry the instrument from her hand.

"The future champion of La Naan or Ci Xenith, then," Vord reluctantly agreed. His wife sighed in protest.

"Speaking of the future of La Naan, I was thinking we should move the wedding date up from the fall to this summer. Sometime early. Don't you think so, Lady Elenor?" Lady Ramia beamed at her potential daughter-in-law, not realizing she had just set foot in volatile territory. Elenor blushed and gave another shy look to Laphiji. The man in question seemed almost as absorbed with his dinner as Duzell.

"If it pleases Lady Ramia and Sir Laphiji," Elenor said, the nervous blush still staining her cheeks. Laphiji didn't comment. Seiliez, however, took this moment to excuse himself. He pushed back from the table firmly, almost violently and stood.

"Excuse me. I'm not feeling well," he announced. Falan, Elenor, and Phelios all expressed their wishes for his swift recovery. Lady Ramia was staring at him as if he had just turned the most unusual shade of purple and Vord was shaking his head. Laphiji looked directly at his adoptive brother for the first time that evening. When their eyes met the look exchanged was charged and aggressive. It was Seiliez who looked away first. He repeated his excuses and promptly exited the room. Duzell put down his fork and did his best to swallow a sigh. Why did he have to eat with the family again?

Second, third, and fourth course came without Laphiji uttering a word. Ramia doggedly continued to make an effort at small talk with Phelios and Falan assisting her from time to time, but the rest of the party ate silently and swiftly as if eager to be done with the affair. After the orange sorbet and cookies Duzell was the first to bid his aunt goodnight and excuse himself from the table. Phelios quickly followed after and Vord and Falan were forced to say their goodnights for little Ranee's sake. The child was practically asleep in her desert and she had a dab of orange smudged across her chin.

Duzell turned and left the hall, his uncle, aunt, cousin, and brother all trailing after. Phelios was talking to Falan while Vord carried the dozing princess. They were talking about the tournament again: who was likely to win, who would be going home next round, the favorites, the underdogs, and any other topic they could touch on that the un-militant Falan would be able to follow. When they reached the south corridor junction the trio bid the princes goodnight, going off to their larger, grander chambers further in to the castle. Duzell sped up, knowing that with Falan and Vord gone Phelios' attentions would turn to him.

"I think we should find out what's going on directly from Uncle Seiliez," he announced without preamble. Duzell frowned at the suggestion.

"Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight."

"You want to sneak into our forty-year-old uncles room and ask him why he's a freak?" Phelios tutted at the crassness of the question.

"Of course not. I was thinking it'd be best if we just observed rather than interacting with him."

"You mean spying?"

"In a way."

"What exactly are we going to gleam from watching him sleep?" Duzell asked, slowing his pace to walk next to his brother without consciously realizing.

"Oh, I don't think he's asleep, and I just have a feeling that something's going to happen tonight." Pehlios watched his brother mull over this. Phelios smiled. It wasn't that his brother was weak-willed by any definition of the word, he just had a soft spot for those he cared for and, as unwilling to admit it as he was, Duzell cared for his older sibling.

"You're really going?"

"We're going."

"Fine. Do as you wish," Duzell grumbled. Phelios took him up on his offer, grabbing his sleeve and doing a 180 in the hallway. Phelios slipped into a servants corridor they'd 'explored' as boys, dragging Duzell behind him. The route to Seiliez's chambers was a little difficult to navigate, but with only a trifling struggle the princes found the right room. They climbed up into the crawlspace above the servants route, just big enough for the two of them, and crept on arms and knees to the vent over-looking the rooms of La Naan's eldest 'prince'. Phelios' hunch had been correct. Laphiji was already there and the two were arguing in hushed tones, although it looked as though Seliez were steadily loosing his composure.

"I'm _not_ upset! What you do with you're _darling_ fiancé is your business. She's very well suited for you, so I'm sure you'll be very happy." Seiliez's classic, porcelain face was flushed from exertion and his limpid violet eyes were bright with emotion, augmenting his usual beauty. His golden hair was disheveled as if he'd run his hands through it too many times. Laphiji appeared as clam as ever to a casual observer, but the tension of his jaw and his clenched fists belied his frustration.

"This has nothing to do with Lady Elenor." His voice was even, but cold. Seiliez scoffed, tossing his head in a disdainful gesture.

"I hardly see how it can't, since you're in love with her." Seiliez crossed his arms, daring Laphiji to contradict him. Laphiji seemed to have no words for this. He stood mute, his gaze fixed to the side. Seiliez's expression gradually went from furious to forlorn. "So, it's true. You really are in love with her," he said, taking Laphiji's silence for an admission of guilt. His arms dropped to his side. "I see. You'll really be perfect for each other…"

"No." Laphiji looked back at his ex-lover. "I told Lady Elenor… what I thought she wanted to hear," he admitted, a wince of real guilt flashing over his face. Seiliez's eyes snapped to him, wide with surprise. Laphiji cautiously proceeded in his explanation. "I was telling her what I'd thought everyone," Their eyes met briefly before Laphiji looked away. "wanted to hear. It… was dishonest of me." He shifted slightly, turning an imploring gaze on the blond.

"You need to marry, but…" Seiliez sighed. "I really haven't grown at all. I know what must happen, but I still want you to myself." Laphiji wasted no time in taking the only opportunity Seiliez might give him. In three long strides, he'd pulled the smaller man to him and leaned down to kiss him. The two met in a hungry, desperate clash. Seiliez's arms wound around Laphiji's neck as his pale tapered fingers wound through the ink black ponytail. The two seemed to be trying to drink the other in, to feel them completely.

Duzell turned as quickly as he could in a crouch and made a dash for the trap door leading back down in to the servants' corridor. Phelios followed after, a small contented smile gracing his features. They were halfway back to their rooms before either dared to speak.

"I'm going to have nightmares," Duzell complained. Phelios just chuckled, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"You know, when you make a big deal over it like that, it really just sounds like you're in denial." Duzell gave him a full-power glare.

"Thanks, but I don't want to be known as a peeping-Tom. You, however, can do what you like." Duzell quickened his pace, eager for the safety of his room. Phelios was openly laughing, clearly pleased that his Uncles had made up, in a fashion. The brother's crossed into the main corridor.

"We were just listening in. It's not like anything unseemly was going to happen."

"They were kissing. I really don't want to know what was going to happen," Duzell groused. Phelios tilted his head to one side in consideration.

"No... It's not the right time. They still have Lady Elenor to consider. The air's not clean just yet. I think you're virgin eyes would have been safe, brother." Phelios joked.

"Excuse me? Like you know any more than I do." Duzell was glaring again.

"I do wish to know what this mandate on Uncle Laphiji marriying is about though…" Phelios mused, turning his head to look at his brother. Duzell, however, was no longer next to him. The younger prince had stopped a few paces behind and was staring at something to the side of the hallway. Phelios followed his brothers gaze to see what had arrested him. Standing just next to a window, body turned as if she had been gazing out at the streets only a moment before, was the red-headed girl from the tournament festival. She was staring at Duzell again, face unreadable. Slowly, she curtsied.

"Good evening, prince" she said, dragging the word out with a strain of bitterness. After a moment she turned to Phelios. "Prince," she repeated, curtsying again before she departed her perch by the window and headed back the direction Phelios and Duzell had come from. Duzell turned to watch her until she disappeared around a corner. Phelios and Duzell exchanged a look.

"Are you sure you don't know her?" Phelios asked.

"Completely." Duzell shook his head to clear the chill seeing the serious-eyed girl had brought on. He began walking again. "Let's go. I'm tried."

--

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello, all! This is the last chapter I'll be able to post for a little while, as my cousin is having her wedding in Costa Rica in a few days. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading : D.**

--

_To me, they were puppets… _

_dolls… _

_toys… _

_I never even thought about their feelings…_

_Because I wouldn't let myself feel anything that might get in the way of my ambition._

--

Seiliez broke the kiss abruptly, looking suspiciously at the ceiling vent.

"Did you hear something?" he asked in a whisper, his arms still around Laphiji's neck. Laphiji was too dazed to manage an audible response so he settled on a curt nod of his head. Seiliez studied the ceiling area for a bit, listening and pondering the noise. Suddenly a realization struck him. His anger came back in full force. He broke from Laphiji's embrace and stormed across the room to stand directly under the vent. His face was upturned and his fists were clenched.

"Those little brats! Exactly like their mother in every way. It's like having two Ishtars again." He looked a hairs breadth from shouting at the innocent air vent for allowing the two miscreants to use it for such a purpose. This interruption gave Laphiji time to gather his wits about him and he was immediately beset by guilt. He turned from Seiliez and made for the door. The sound of his footsteps drew Seiliez's attention. "Where are you going?" he asked, taking a few steps in pursuit. Laphiji stopped at the door, his hand on the brass knob.

"My room," Laphiji said, refusing to meet Seiliez's eyes and see the confused hurt there. Seiliez didn't seem to find this an acceptable answer. He took another step forward. Laphiji stood his ground. "I've involved Lady Elenor too far. This isn't fair to her." The words stopped Seiliez in his tracks. The full meaning of Laphiji's words set in, their weight forcing Seiliez to retreat to the bedside chair. Seiliez lowered his head into his hands.

"Mother, you're such a fool," Seiliez muttered to his absent parent. Laphiji dropped his hand from the doorknob, choosing instead to lean against the elegantly carved wooden frame. "You're leaving me either way, I guess." Seiliez's hands muffled his words. His hair fell around him, framing him in a golden halo.

"Those without lineage are not permitted to live on castle grounds," Laphiji said, voicing the law they were both terribly aware of. Over the past fifteen years the public had slowly become aware of Lady Ramia's deception. While Vord and Seiliez were saved by the happenstance of their birth, Laphiji was left title-less with no lineage and no legitimacy. He would be expelled from the castle and the ruling class when the subject of his birth came up at the next regional council. His engagement to Lady Elenor, a noble of La Naan, had been his mother's attempt to preserve his position as co-ruler of La Naan. If he wished to continue living as he had the past thirty-nine years he would have to marry into nobility. Being adopted simply would not suffice. Blood was everything in Pheliosta.

Seiliez had pushed Laphiji to marry as well. What would his brother, who had been ruling the region with him for the past ten years in their mother's stead, do for a living in banished beyond the castle. While Laphiji had proved many a time to be quite a capable fighter, Seiliez hated to think of him as a soldier or some mercenary. Laphiji knew no other trade then politics and fighting. He was safest in the castle. Not to mention, Laphiji would be so far away, living in the city. It would be like sneaking out to see Murra all over again. Donning disguises in the middle of the night just to see that person… Seiliez had not stopped to seriously consider what it would mean to be near Laphiji and unable to be with him. He was beginning to think he'd prefer midnight meetings to this new torture. Laphiji was the one person who'd never ignored him.

"Please don't, Laphiji," Seiliez implored, looking up from his hands. The silent prince had no answer for him. To turn back would be beyond cruel to the trusting Elenor, but to continue with the marriage would be lying to her just the same. Even if he did call off the marriage, he would still be separated from Seiliez. Their future as a couple was bleak, at best.

"I have to go," Laphiji said, using the phrase for the second time that day. His hand lifted to the doorknob again. This time, he twisted, pushing the door open with his weight. He did not say goodbye or anything else beyond his sterile announcement and Seiliez did not pursue him any further.

--

Duzell struck again, bringing his elbow up and moving his sword vertically. His opponent parried, keeping his arms close in to his torso. This allowed him to lash out after the parry in a thrust. Duzell twisted to the side and the sword slipped past him with inches to spare. Duzell took two steps to the side. His opponent raised his blade in a pre-emptive parry and Duzell took the opportunity to strike his opponents exposed ankles. The man went down like a sawed forest oak. Duzell stepped back, allowing the medics to attend to his fallen opponent. Breathing hard, the prince slid his sword back into its matt black sheath. The crowd was cheering and he could hear the herald announce him as winner of the round. He was moving up to the fourth tier. From the bench, Phelios was smiling at him, holding a cloth to the nick on his left arm. Duzell nodded once to his brother and went to take his place on the bench next to him.

"Took your time," Phelios said as his brother sat down, sweeping his black cloak behind him. Duzell grunted in acknowledgement. The fight had nearly been seven minutes long. A good length of time for someone considered a champion hopeful.

"He was faster than he looked," Duzell defended. Phelios nodded and lifted the cloth to pat at his wound.

"So was mine. They've got a good line-up this year. We're going to have to really work to win this." Duzell turned to watch the next two fighters draw and begin. The fight was over in one hit, as many of the upper-level fights were. A young spiky-haired man with a sharp chin and button nose was standing over a groaning mass of humanity. His opponent was rolling on the ground in pain, making it hard for the medics to get a proper look at him. The young man turned to head back to the bench when a shrill cry cut the air, drowning out even the cheers of the crowd.

"Yujellllllll! Yes!" A slip of a noble woman was jumping up and down in the stands, shouting at the top of her lungs. An older man with pepper grey hair and lines under his eyes, but with the respectable physique of a fighting man was sitting next to her looking patiently tolerant. The woman screamed again and blew the youth on the field a kiss. The fighter blushed in embarrassment and hurried to find his seat on the bench. People in the stands were edging away from the celebrating noble. All except Vord, who had moved out of the royal box to make a beeline straight for the woman. He waved to the man next to her, who nodded back. The woman wrinkled her nose when she noted Vord's approach, but she also stopped shouting.

Phelios looked up at the woman and then back at the fighter. He nudged Duzell in the side with his good elbow.

"Isn't that Lady Lenee and General Ashley?" Duzell's stare was blank. "From Zi Alda? We met them when the entire family went on review," Phelios tried again. This seemed to spark something in Duzell's memory and he nodded. Phelios looked over at the fair-haired fighter again. "Do you think that's their son?" Duzell gave his brother a look that asked what else other than relation could inspire a woman into a shrieking fit over the outcome of a sword match.

"Maybe." The young man was making a valiant effort at hiding his face behind the support beam holding up the slanted roof of the bench area.

"He seems pretty good with a sword. What you'd expect coming from 'Dad's country' and all," Phelios said, indulging in the family joke about his fathers place of birth. Duzell couldn't help a grin at the running jest. "We should introduce ourselves." The grin promptly disappeared.

"Have fun," Duzell said, folding his arms stubbornly and leaning back against the stonewall behind them. Phelios sighed and nudged his brother in the ribs again.

"You're such a recluse. You can hardly accuse Uncle Laphiji of being peculiar and then refuse to meet new people."

"Yeah, but I can carry on a conversation."

"When pressed." Duzell decided to look away and pretend his brother simply wasn't there. "Well, it's likely they'll be invited to dinner anyway, so you'll have to meet him sooner or later." Phelios gave a soft smile, knowing he'd won this round. What he'd said the night before had been true. He almost always won their matches.

"Are you sure that's going to be alright for the next fight?" Duzell changed the subject, gesturing to the slowly reddening cloth. Phelios grinned widely and looked about to reply when he noticed someone familiar in the stands.

"You're friend is back," he announced. Duzell swung around, his gathered ponytail sweeping behind him with the force of the movement. Sure enough, the green-eyed rust-haired girl was there again. She was staring again. Her face was stoic and tortured at the same time. Again.

"Should we have brought a guard? I'm beginning to fear for my life," Duzell drawled, watching the girl watch him.

"She has to be a noble," Phelios said, removing the cloth from the clotted cut and letting it drop carelessly onto the bench at his side. "She wouldn't have been in the castle otherwise. She's not dressed for working class either," he observed.

"Se could just be from a rich family. Lady Ramia does have visitors from time to time." An understatement, to be sure. Lady Ramia always had visitors from somewhere or other.

This time the girl did not hurry away after being spotted. She continued to stand at the edge of the spectators' bleachers and watch him. Duzell was inexplicably reminded of the odd happening with the vampire along the North Road from only a few weeks ago. Her unwavering vigilance afforded him his first real opportunity to get a proper look at her.

She might have been a little older than he'd originally thought. Maybe even seventeen or eighteen. Her face was comely, her eyes slanted and fringed with thick lashes. Her hair was thick and wavy and he thought it might have been more appealing if it weren't cropped unfashionably short at her shoulders. She was rather well endowed, which went well in her favor as far as the princes were concerned, and she had a figure that looked like it might develop into a classic hourglass form in a few more years. Overall, she was a beauty when compared to simpler faces like that of Lady Elenor. Duzell might have thought her attractive if not for her disturbing habit of staring at him with that impossible-to-read expression.

She continued to watch him when Phelios got up for his next fight. When Phelios won. When he returned to the bench. As the next two fights began and ended. Duzell was beginning to suspect the girl to be more parts owl than human. Phelios wiped cooling perspiration from his brow.

"You should go talk to her. Maybe she's sweet on you," Phelios teased. Duzell failed to be amused and Phelios had reverted back to his innocent-as-lambs look. "You aren't up for another six fights. That's twenty minutes, at least. Go on," Phelios prodded, lifting a hand to gently push at his brother's shoulder. Duzell sighed, but stood up.

"Fine. Stay here," he ordered, knowing his brother's penchant for sticking his nose where it didn't belong.

With that, Duzell squeezed his way through the throng of resting soldiers to the stairs leading into the spectators' area. The girl's eyes followed him, flickering briefly back to Phelios to see if he was following her quarry or not. When it looked as if the fairer prince was staying put, she turned and slipped further into the crowd. Duzell sped up in pursuit, making sure to give the Zi Alda natives and Vord a wide birth lest he be stopped. He caught a glimpse of the familiar red higher up in the stands, near an exit, and he made after it. By the time he'd elbowed his way to the stone arch exit the girl had moved down into the streets. She looked behind her to see if he was still following and then slipped into an alley. Duzell pushed past the revelers and spectators, dodging carts, horses, and peddlers until he reached the mouth of the little alley. The girl was standing at the end by a door leading into the building. She darted in as soon as he came in view. Thoroughly annoyed and a little intrigued, Duzell followed her in.

The interior was what looked like a store room for a tavern. Duzell wondered at the downright bizarre choice of location. Perhaps the girl hadn't known where she was going after all. She had perched on a crate labeled 'potatoes' with her skirts arranged about her. Her slanted green eyes were hard and unrelenting. Duzell returned the attention with a stare of his own. The girl paused, as if searching for something.

"Do you know me?" she asked at length. Duzell's brow furrowed in confusion. He tried to remember the people he'd met, but he could summon no memory of this strange girl.

"No," he replied with absolute certainty. The girl looked sad and relieved at the same time. Her eyes searched over them again. This time the look was predominantly wistful.

"You do not know yourself either," she said. The girl sighed. "Indeed, you are not yourself. Human…" Duzell stiffened, immediately calling to mind the Holy Magic he knew. Was this another crazy vampire? He kept his calm, knowing panic would be fatal if the creature meant him harm. He shook off any lingering anxiety and his posture relaxed.

"You think me a vampire," she said, wonder filing her voice. "No. I am not undead. I am human. I have always been human." These words were tinted with bitterness and her expression darkened momentarily. "You, my lord, have not always been human. I believe even now this humanity is only a shell." The girl rose, coming over to him. Duzell calmly placed his hand on the pommel of his sword, watching her with the alert intensity of a hawk. "If things were as they had been, I would have begged you to cast off this shell." She placed her white hand on his forearm, seemingly unaware of his fingers tightening around the handle in warning. "I would have asked to see you in your former glory." Her hand fell away.

"I don't know what you're talking about and I'm not who you're looking for. Stop watching me, please," Duzell announced, disinterested in staying to hear the rest of her obscure monologue. He had a tournament to return to and no patience for this girl's games.

"Don't you leave me here!" she snapped the phrase with such vehemence and urgency that it stopped him in his tracks. Duzell looked sharply at the now livid girl. She had drawn herself up to full height and was glaring fit to kill. "I spent three years in hell waiting for you. Do not walk out on me, my lord." She swayed, as if she had meant to reach out to him, but thought better of it. Duzell regarded her coolly. He knew who she thought he was and he did not appreciate it at all.

"I said I don't know you," he reiterated, stepping away from her with caution, as if expecting her to lunge for him.

"It doesn't matter. I went through fire and torture and all I could think about was you. I longed for you so much, I brought myself back to this realm," she mumbled, lifting her hand as if she found the pale cream flesh strange. Duzell did not even respond. He turned from her and headed back toward the storeroom door. Behind him, she laughed. "I thought you so weak for you're compassion at first. Now it seems to have gone from you again. You turn to abandon someone so clearly in distress." Duzell stopped at the door.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"You once called me Rishas, my lord. Now I am Thisbe."

"Well, Thisbe, you seem capable enough. I'm sure you can find a way back to the castle on your own." With that, he opened the door and stepped into the alley, shutting out the storeroom and the strange girl. If he went quickly, he could make it back in time for his next fight.

--


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey, ya'll! Sorry for the delay. An earthquake took my internet out and I just recently got it working again. Good news is I've got a new chapter! I've got a beta now ; D. You know who you are!! Unfortunately, I was in such a rush to get this out because of the delay that I didn't even send it to my beta! Shocking, I know. I'll be going back and correcting errors asap, so bear with it for a little while, please. In the meantime, here's chapter nine!**

--

"The vampire king placed a curse on my great-grandfather. After a century of darkness, your soul will live again in the body of one of your decendents. At that time, I will also be reborn. And when we meet...I will drain your blood, tear your body limb from limb, and laugh while your soul writhes condemned for all eternity to a lake of fire.." Lady Ishtar rolled her eyes. "Why do all these old kings have to be so overly dramatic? Besides, if I ever run into Phelios' reincarnation, I'll spoon out his eyes and flay him myself instead of waiting for some moldy old vampire to do it."

--

Phelios looked up from where he'd been wiping dried blood from the edge of his sword. His brother was back sans the mysterious girl. Duzell looked even more like a little storm cloud than usual. His black armor, gloomy expression, and streaming black hair and cape distinctly reminded Phelios of a wisp of angry cloud, the kind that settles over one spot and then refuses to go away the entire day. He was picking through the colorful crowd, sticking out like a sore thumb in all that black. Duzell would be mortified if Phelios ever mentioned it, but the younger prince and their reticent uncle really had quite a few aesthetic similarities. Except, Laphiji didn't have Duzell's bright green glow-in-the-dark eyes.

"How'd it go?" he asked as his brother approached their bench.

"The girl is deeply confused," Duzell said, sliding sown next to Phelios. He was staring straight ahead, refusing to look at the stands just in case 'Thisbe' was there.

"You weren't interested? She is very pretty, you know…"

"I'm not into deranged vampire groupies," Duzell stated firmly, pressing his hand into the wood board serving as a seat for emphasis. A look of enlightenment crossed Phelios' face.

"Oh, so she talked about the vampire thing?" Phelios asked knowingly.

"So she talked about the St. Phelios thing?" Duzell snapped, which made no sense in context, but made the young prince fell moderately better, having reminded his smug brother that Duzell wasn't the only one with a hokey namesake.

"One day you're going to remember something. Then you wont be so negative about the whole thing."

"Do you remember something?" Duzell challenged, expecting the answer to be negative. Phelios smiled, tilting his head to one side, and lifted a pale blond brow.

"Maybe," he teased. The prince stretched his slender limbs, crossing them behind his head in a gesture of perfect ease. "Maybe not."

"You're so full of sh—"

"Excuse me." The two princes looked up in tandem. The talented youth from the earlier fight was standing before them, one hand casually resting on his hip. His chin was lifted, making him look down the side of his nose at the princes. "My mother, Lady Lenee, wished me to introduce myself. I am Yuujel of Zi Alda," the young man said, giving a curt bow that was really more of an abbreviated bending at the waist. Phelios instantly went into mega-watt-smile-mode as if it were more a reflex than a conscious choice.

"I'm Phelios." He didn't tack on a land of origin. With a name like that, it was sort of obvious where he came from. Beside, Yuujel clearly already knew who both of the seated teens were. "It's a pleasure, Yuujel." Phelios glanced over to where Lenee, Ashley, Vord were watching. Well, really only Lady Lenee was watching. Her husband and Vord were both engrossed in a conversation, happily tuning out the lady's antics. "Named for our late uncle, I believe." Phelios added, his smile still emblazoned across his face in a mask of perfect diplomatic courtesy. "And my brother, Duzell." The afore mentioned seemed to be doing a marginally decent job of tuning out the exchange.

"Yes, well… Good luck in the tournament," Yuujel said after a pause. Having fulfilled his mothers order that he introduce himself, the poor boy seemed at a loss for what else to say. Phelios rescued him.

"We saw your fight earlier. You're quite the skilled swordsman. Have you competed before?" Yuujel cleared his throat.

"Yes. This is my second year as a contestant," he replied. "I regrettably only place sixth last tournament." He claimed, his spine straightening, the confident stoicism returning. Phelios looked appropriately impressed.

"Out of a good three hundred, sixth is quite the achievement for a fist-timer." Phelios dutifully repeated the socially expected reply. Yuujel puffed up further. It seems he had not managed to inherit the cunning or intelligence of his namesake. Still, he seemed a civilized person, if a little too proud.

"Thank you," he said with another, slightly deeper, bow. It was testament to his upbringing that he at least tried to feign humility. When he rose again, Yuujel had a small smile on his face. "My family is dining with yours tonight. I look forward to seeing you then," he said. Duzell visibly winced, but managed to stifle the rising groan.

"Until then," Phelios said, smile intact. Yuujel half-bowed once more and pivoted sharply on his heel to return to his seat.

"I'm feeling under the weather. Please make my excuses at dinner," Duzell muttered to his twin. Phelios laughed, the smile shifting to a more genuine one.

"Oh, he wasn't so bad. Maybe not the sharpest rapier in the armory, but not all that bad," Phelios said, defending their latest acquaintance. Duzell shot him a despairing look that had Phelios chuckling.

"Maybe your new friend will be at dinner, with your luck. Did she mention whether she was high-born or not?" Duzell refused to even think about that dreaded possibility and when the herald called his name for the next fight he was only too happy to knock some teeth out to release the tension. When he sat down again, Phelios was smiling uneasily; a sure sign Duzell had startled his brother. The man on the field was still spitting blood and enamel out onto the packed dust of the battlefield. Duzell smirked.

"Enjoying yourself?" Phelios asked. His voice was oddly cool. Duzell rolled his head to the side, looking at his brother, and shrugged before rolling it back to watch the loser spew another bloody mouthful. Phelios' smile was small and chilled. "Huh. Funny. This is the sort of sight I'd have thought a _vampire_ would enjoy." Duzell's smirk froze and then disappeared all together. He slowly turned to glare at his twin. Mentally, Duzell called his sibling a long list of names, the tamest of which were 'sanctimonious' and 'jerk'. Phelios winced, as if he could plainly hear each and every imagined insult.

"Excuse me for not being a _saint_," Duzell hissed. The words did not hold the same power over Phelios as they did his ill-tempered twin and the fair prince seemed more distressed by the glare than the spoken words. The two brothers faced away from each other in a childish display. Unfortunately, when Duzell turned to present his brother with his armor covered back his gaze went straight into the stands and landed on a wavy head of red. If he'd thought Phelios was cross, this girl was inside out with anger. She was smirking at his predicament, but there was nothing in the look that indicated good-humor. Duzell did groan this time, leaning his head into the wall in a childish attempt to shield his gaze. Despite his victories in the arena, today had been a most unrewarding day.

The two continued in this manner for quite sometime afterwards, all through the tournament and until the closing ceremonies for that day's rounds. They both advanced into the next bracket and had to sit through an additional hour of being congratulated on making it through past the halfway mark by a swarm of fans and officials waiting just outside the arena. Even the charismatic Phelios had trouble being civil, given his bad mood. When they both returned to the castle they were equally exhausted as they were grumpy. The impending evenings dinner seemed an exercise in pure tedium to both of the princes and they delayed going for as long as they dared. Skipping formal dinners in your own castle was one thing, but doing it in someone else's was beyond rude.

They left separately, Phelios having resolved not to speak t his brother during the evening for a fault that seemed to have grown dramatically in proportion and despicability over time. Duzell lingered a few moments over, fussing with his shirt and belt. The sound of the door opening and footsteps drew his attention and stilled the hand tugging at his shirt collar. When no one said anything, Duzell started tugging at his shirt again, just to give his hands something to do.

"I thought you were going down before me?" he muttered, secretly hoping this was the beginning of reconciliation between them. Without having Phelios to talk to, Duzell had quickly realized how very limited his social circle was.

"Forgive the intrusion," came the unwanted soft-spoken voice. Duzell could almost feel veins pop in his forehead.

"Don't you have anyone else to stalk, _Lady_ Thisbe?"

"No, just you," the redhead replied instantly with nary a blink. Duzell found his wish for his brother to return had intensified. He whirled on her, hands on his hips in the most imperious manner he was capable of in his stick-skinny body.

"Lady Thisbe, I'll ask you to leave and then I'll escort you out," he intoned, face deadly serious. The redhead looked vaguely worried for a moment and then it passed. She smiled softly.

"I wont keep you long, my lord," she tried, moving a step further into the room. Duzell strode forward, grabbing her arm as he went, and opened the door to pull them both into the hallway.

"No, I'm not going to hear it again. I'm not a vampire and you are crazy," he informed her sternly. Lady Thisbe gave him that dammed enigmatic look again. She didn't seem to mind or even notice the death grip Duzell had on her arm.

"I'm not going to make a point of that again," she informed him as if she'd just commented on the weather. "If you don't remember anything, it doesn't matter." Duzell stared unabashedly at the mad noblewoman. She was bewildering, unwanted, and tirelessly persistent.

"Good. Then you'll leave me alone?" Duzell half-asked, half-stated, his grip on her arm slowly releasing. The knowledge that she would have bruises troubled him little. Thisbe seemed surprised, the first definitive, clear emotion she'd displayed.

"No. I meant it doesn't matter to me. I've already made up my mind. For once I just want to have something go my way." She said this last bit with a sort of piteous longing that distracted Duzell enough that his hand fell away from her abused limb entirely. She lifted her pretty face and her eyes met his searchingly. Duzell could not guess what exactly she was looking for and he only stared back blankly in response. She lifted her hand slowly, as if afraid he was going to bite it, and reached out to touch the collar of his turtleneck. The second her slim fingers made contact, Duzell smoothly pulled away and started down the hall at an even, but brisk, pace.

"Excuse me," he said, not even turning to deliver the shallow pardon to her face. If she was following him, Duzell did not turn to look. He ducked into a servant's corridor a soon as he came upon a suitable one and followed the labyrinthine paths until he finally happened upon the formal dining room.

He slipped out into the main corridor just before the dining room door and stealthily sidled up to the door, leaning in to listen. He couldn't tell how far they were into the meal by the conversation, but he was able to tell the Zi Alda family had, indeed, made it to dinner as promised. He could hear Phelios' soothing voice relating some arbitrary aspect of that day's matches. Sucking in a deep breath to muster his resolve, Duzell turned the handle and stepped into the room with as much confidence and ease as he could fabricate. Heads turned to observe the new arrival. He was relieved to see they hadn't stood on ceremony and had started the meal without him present. He bowed and moved to take his seat on the second right of the table, next to his brother. As he lowered himself into the elegantly carved and stiffly uncomfortable chair his eye caught his twins and Phelios' easy smile instantly dropped. He opened his mouth to demand to know the reason for Duzell's agitation, but was cut off by an inquiry from Lady Ramia.

"No, aunt," he said, reaching up to rest a hand against his previously injured shoulder. "It's already healed," he said with all required cordiality and respect. Lady Ramia pursed her lips at the reply, scrunching her button nose in the process.

"Nonsense. You're far to young to know what a proper injury is like, anyways. You'll have to let our palace doctor take a look at it after dinner. I'll have him sent for during dessert. You wont have to wait at all," she insisted with the confidence of one who is too accustomed to mothering others. Phelios smiled politely, casting a wary glance in the direction of his brother, expecting a smirk or a scoff at Lady Ramia's mother-hening, and found his brother's expression to be suspiciously blank and distant.

"Of course, aunt," Phelios replied, retuning his attention to the present conversation. He was working overtime to cover his exasperation. He wanted to be alone with Duzell to needle out whatever was bothering his little brother and a visit from the doctor would only prolong the wait. It might even offer Duzell a chance to escape completely, which would not do! "I believe my brother sustained some injuries of his own, today." Phelios added. This drew Duzell's attention. The head of loose black hair snapped to the side, glaring suspiciously at it's antithetical twin. Ramia nodded sagaciously along with the implied suggestion. Duzell would have to be checked over as well, meaning he couldn't sneak off before Phelios had a chance to grill him.

"Yes, Duzell shall have to be checked over as well. La Naan is known for it's doctors. The best can make a warrior like knew in minutes!" Falan looked up from trying to censure her daughters rowdiness and added her own compliments to the medical practitioners of La Naan and the fine job they always did of patching up her husband. Lady Lenee sniffed haughtily.

"The doctors in Zi Alda are quite as proficient as those in La Naan, Lady Ramia. Ashley's always getting banged up in some manner and the medics have always done such a fine job that he's still able to go into battle against men half his age." The proud little blonde's husband looked faintly embarrassed, but seemed to take his wife's attitude in stride. Their son, however, seemed completely in agreement with his mother, nodding along to her narration. Lady Ramia was bristling, but making a dedicated try at keeping a semblance of courteousness. Lady Ramia opened her mouth to reply when Falan and Phelios interjected at the same time.

"How are the campaigns against the northern tribes going, General?"

"Lady Ramia, this turkey is excellent! You must lend me your cook."

They both paused, looking at each other in surprise at first and then in camaraderie. Apparently Duzell's spirits had been gradually lifting. This time he did snort, though he did so softly enough as to only draw his brothers and General Ashley's, who he was seated next to, attention. Neither said anything, although both smiled in amusement.

Nothing eventful came of the dinner, unlike the previous night and Seilez's dramatic exit. However, the evening did serve to remind the young princes of the honesty and casual-manner of their own castle and by the end of the meal both were longing for home.

As promised, Lady Ramia called for the doctor and Phelios and Duzell endured the old, near-sighted doctors examination. After a wholly unprecedented length of time, the codger pronounced them both perfectly fit and they were allowed to retire to their rooms. Phelios wasted no time in launching an offensive.

"You were out of line this afternoon, but I forgive you," he began in a hurry, spouting forth the forced and perhaps unwanted forgiveness in order to break the angry silence that had separated them. Duzell turned his face away and sped up his pace to reach his rooms faster, but made no other objection. "So what happened after I left? Uncle Seiliez and Laphiji were already at dinner when I got there so it couldn't have been anything to do with them," Phelios guessed. Duzell pressed his lips together angrily.

"I can't wait to get out of here. I can't believe we have to wait for three more days," he tersely admitted. Phelios raised an eyebrow. Duzell hesitated and then surrendered. "That girl tracked me down again." Phelios grinned so broadly and squinted his eyes so dramatically that Duzell thought for sure his brother was going to burst out laughing.

"Night time meetings already? You're fast!" The hiccupping pitch of suppressed chuckles tainted the fair prince's words. The glare he got in response was pitch black.

"It's not funny," Duzell grumbled. This was the final straw. Not even the always-composed Phelios could contain his mirth at the idea of his brother in such straights over a slip of a little girl. Duzell turned angrily away, breaking out into a full run and racing the rest of the way to his rooms. He really hated La Naan.


	10. Chapter 10

Hey, ya'll. So, in her review, Myka brought up a very good point! Where is this story going? Myself, I don't really know T.T... Yes, its true, the authoress is flying by the seat of her pants. However, if anyone is good with stuff like, oh, plots, I'd be much obliged for any help. At the moment I only have a general notion of whats going to happen. I'm glad to hear everyone is still enjoying the fic and kisses to my new readers! Thanks again to Inez, Myka, and faerie007 for reviewing! You guyz rock : D

--

"_Wow, Duzie! That cape looks great on you! Is your magic strong enough to conjure up stuff now?! Will you make me one in green?!"_

"_What?! This is the first time you've seen me in my true form, and all you can say is that you like my cape?"_

"…_. Well, now that you mention it, I thought you'd be scarier. The scariest thing about you is your hair."_

"_My hair?..." _

--

The crowd roared with approval as the man went down in a clatter of armor and weapons. The side of his face was slightly scorched and one of his eyebrows had been burned away completely. It had been one of the most even matches of the entire martial arts tournament and those fortunate enough to have a place in the stands had been on the edge of their seat, absorbing the ebb and flow with eager attention. In the end, the challenger went down and Prince Duzell was left looking like he'd stuck a finger in an electric current from a Holy Bolt attack. He was, however, standing. Which is more than one could say for his opponent and all that really mattered to the tournament officials.

"Prince Duzell of Pheliosta!" the herald bellowed. The crowd once again erupted in a tidal wave of noise. They seemed to have overcome any stigma over the prince's namesake during the course of the tournament. "The Prince advances into the tenth bracket!" The herald's words were all but drowned out by the people in the stands. Everyone already knew the Prince had joined his brother in the third-to-last bracket. Both he and Lord Yuujel of Zi Alda had steadily climbed their way up their respective ends of the chart and would be facing each other in the next round. Phelios would be facing another newcomer who had done well for himself, and the reigning champion, a La Naan native, would be facing a second noble from La Naan and tournament veteran.

Medic rushed on to check over the vanquished warrior as Duzell made a bee-line for the benches, where his brother and their new 'acquaintance' sat watching. Phelios gave his brother a casual wink and a half-smile at Duzell's hard-won victory and Lord Yuujel managed a nod.

"Well fought, Duzell," the proud Zi Aldan commented with all the bored lack-luster of insincerity. Duzell shrugged, turning to sit on the bench, dropping his sheathed sword on the packed dirt ground at his boot-clad feet. As the days had progressed both of the young men had found that they didn't particularly care for the other, Duzell finding Yuujel stuck-up and presumptive and Yuujel feeling Duzell to be a dull grouch. Their only common bond was Phelios, who possessed the miraculous gift of getting along well with just about anyone.

"Yeah," Duzell mumbled in response, too tired to attempt anything more complex. The young prince had mixed feelings about the next fight. On one hand, he had the chance to beat the snob out of the haughty Lord Yuujel. Conversely, he had the opportunity to be beaten to a black and bloody pulp by the haughty Lord Yuujel who was actually quite good with that sword hanging at his side. Duzell shifted uneasily on his wooden perch under the realization that the odds might not quite be in his favor for his next fight. He snatched a covert glance at his future adversary. The ponce was talking with Phelios about one of the other contestants and was quite openly criticizing the man's sword style. Phelios had to intervene with a well-placed topic change when Yuujel made a rather nasty, and only sort-of subtle inference to the unskilled man's sword master.

"It should be quite the match. I'm looking forward to it," Phelios was saying. Duzell lifted his aching head at this. They were talking about the next round now. When Phelios saw he had his twin's attention his smile turned so conniving and gleeful that it could have been described as down right wicked on a less angelic complexion. Duzell returned the smile with his finely toned glare. Just the right amount of malice without being comedic or melodramatic. He was admittedly surprised when his brother's reaction, usually a triumphant grin or wink became his stiff over-bright public persona. Duzell was soon alerted to the reason for this alteration by loud voice that hardly reflected the age or physical stature of its possessor.

"Beautiful fight! It wouldn't be proper for a prince of Pheliosta to not advance to the tenth bracket," Lady Ramia announced. She and her retinue were pilled in along the stone wall that separated the fighters from the spectators. "We were all very worried about you," she said with a hum of genuine maternal sympathy, reaching over the barrier to pat the exhausted boy on the top of his head. Too tired to object, his only option was to endure the fawning treatment. As is fussing over her niece's child had reminded her of her own children, Lady Ramia looked around for one of her boys. As luck, or instinct, would have it, Laphiji was passing through the crowd with the latest results in his wrapped hands. Whatever his original destination may have been, he was soon assailed by Lady Ramia shouting across the stadium at him.

"Laphiji! LA-phiji!" He stopped, shoulders slumping slightly. She'd seen him now. There was no getting away from the demanding old woman.

"Hello, mother," he said, once in proper hearing range of the group.

"We were just complimenting Duzell on his fight," Ramia explained. Laphiji inclined his head politely toward the boy, recognizing the slim victory with the gesture. "They might give the winner a run for it this year! The winner is _always_ from La Naan, you know. We've had quite the turnout this year, haven't we Laphiji?"

"Yes."

"A impeccable success. I'll be sorry to see it end in only a day. We shall all miss the young princes as well. Oh, I haven't given you the news yet," turning to Phelios. "Your father sent word this morning. That girl's gone off again, so you're parents wont be home to greet you. Bali, or Balan -what was that name? - Will be in charge. The letter was addressed to you, but I took care of everything and I've already sent a reply. I told your father I couldn't possibly let you travel alone and that Laphiji would be available after the tournament was over." This was clearly news to all three of the individuals involved. Duzell started in surprise, sharing a look with his wide-eyed brother. It was then he noticed Laphiji looking at him like the adopted noble would rather be mucking out stables for the next week than escorting the princes home.

"I have tournament duties," Laphiji tried, lifting the papers in a helpless, bewildered plea. "And… Lady Elenor." He winced at using her as an excuse when he already felt so guilty, but the prospect of squandering his last few days as a bachelor on the royal miscreants called for desperate measures.

"Pish! Elenor can do without you for a few days and don't worry about the tournament. Seiliez can handle all that." Ramia was firm and all had the sinking feeling that she wouldn't budge.

"Aunt, we really are quite able to--" Phelios made a last effort. Ramia clasped her hands together and turned up her button nose.

"I won't hear anything more about it. It'd be an insult to just send you with a guard. That's just the way it shall have to be." With that final word, Lady Ramia turned on her heel and trotted away, her retinue following like a train behind her. The three men stood dumbfounded in her wake. It was Laphiji who recovered first.

"I…" he lifted the papers in lieu of words. Phelios nodded and Duzell squinted his eyes. Laphiji beat a hasty escape into the crowd, presumably going about his tournament business.

"Do you think Lady Ramia was surprised when she came out of her mother and discovered she'd been born into the wrong branch of the family?" the younger twin whispered, eyeing Yuujel to make sure the boy wasn't listening in.

"I think she must have been aghast… And that's not very kind, Duzell," was the hushed reply.

"You agreed." Phelios couldn't deny it. "She's worse than Balan when it comes to bossiness." Phelios nodded, giving his agreement again.

"There's mom and dad." Yuujel announced, revealing what had occupied his attention for the past few moments. "I'll be off then." He nod-bowed to the brothers and was off like an arrow towards his doting parents. Duzell was gazing gloomily up at Lady Ramia's parquet platform.

"Look, Uncle Laphiji isn't that bad and it's only for two days." Phelios consoled, giving his brother a gentle pat on the back. Duzell sighed, but mad no other reply. "Let's get going. I've got dried dirt all down my boots and it's starting to bother me." Duzell looked his grunge-covered brother over and decided a bath wouldn't be a half-bad idea.

"Right." Another sigh echoed closely behind. Phelios shook his head. Duzell was determined to be gloomy.

--

The morning's fights had ended and the participants were slowly gearing up for the afternoon round. Duzell, bathed, bandaged, and feeling slightly better about the looming return trip, was making his way to the benches. He could see Yuujel across the way, swinging his monster of a broad swords and taking firm measured steps as he went through some practice movements. Duzell swallowed a lump he hadn't realized had been building up in his throat. Yuujel had his father's stature and his mother's disposition. He could be a brutal, almost ruthless, opponent.

"Relax. He's slower than you are. Stay on your toes and use every trick in your magic arsenal. He's quick with holy magic, so you'll want to set up a barrier spell early on," Phelios advised. He too was watching Yuujel and feeling equally nervous for his brother. "Here." Phelios pressed something into Duzell's palm. It was a bit of beaten metal, square and grey. A charm had been carved into the sides.

"I'm not a big fan of ruelles, Phelios."

"I know, but just wear it for this fight. It should give you a little extra resistance to his spells." Duzell slipped the magical item over his head, letting it settle against his chest under his armor. He felt he needed all the help he could get.

"Bracket Number 10! Will the fighters step into the arena?" Came the heralds call. Duzell stood and Yuujel sheathed his sword. "Presenting Lord Yuujel of Zi Alda and Prince Duzell of Pheliosta!" Duzell walked confidently into the arena. The referee stood in the middle. Duzell approached, stopping on the official's right. Yuujel stood directly opposite the prince. His expression was clam and sure. At the referee's signal they both bowed, neither dipping very deep. The referee slowly stepped away. The fighters drew and the ref's hand went up. There was a long breath of anticipation in the arena and then the hand flew downward. Duzell parried up, bringing his sword close to his face to ward off Yuujel's blow. The first strike had come and gone. As both contestants were still standing, the battle promised to be good and long.

Yuujel attacked right, but his sword swung through air. Duzell was dancing far off to the boy's left. In less than a breath, Duzell had thrown up a magic barrier. It looked like the prince was in good stead for the fight, which is why it came as such a shock when Yuujel pulled out a high-level Shattering spell and spanked Duzell with it. The prince went flying backwards and landed in a bruised tangle of black cape and dark hair. His queue of hair had come undone, adding to his disadvantages. Though slightly stunned, Duzell was quickly back on his feet and gritting his teeth in anger. Yuujel smirked at him, swinging his sword back and coming at the prince with a wide slash. Duzell only barely managed to duck under the swing. The game of cat and mouse continued around the arena. Yuujel would charge like a rhinoceros and Duzell would slide away as gracefully as any cat. Unfortunately, the prince's stamina was not what Lord Yuujel's was. In only a matter of minutes the Zi Aldan had him backed against the edge of the arena. Duzell darted left, but stumbled and fell. It was all over. The match was done. Yuujel closed in on his prey, raising his sword for a thrust. Duzell closed his eyes and gnashed his teeth together. If only he could do something!

With that thought, a strange feeling of elation came over the young prince. The high before the fall, perhaps? Yet the feeling persisted and he began to feel strong and rested again. Duzell grabbed his sword and leapt to his feet. He was ready to face any opponent, but as he opened his eyes he discovered he wouldn't have to. Lord Yuujel was lying on the ground, hand resting limply on the pommel of his dropped sword. The boy looked drained, like he hadn't an ounce of energy left in him. It was then Duzell noticed the eerie hush in the stands. The entire stadium was holding its breath. He could hear running footsteps behind him and something bumped into his shoulder. Duzell didn't even twitch or look around. He felt a hand on his, taking the sword from him.

"Duzell!" someone hissed. He looked at the person holding his captured sword. It was Phelios, looking almost as pale as the drained Yuujel. "Come on, Duzell," Phelios urged, sparing a wary glance toward the crowd. People were beginning to whisper. The medics had also regained their senses and were rushing to the fallen lord's side. Phelios beckoned again and this time Duzell obeyed.

"I feel… great," the amazed boy mumbled. Phelios only spared a worried glance at him, guiding his twin past the benches and into the inner rooms reserved for the athletes. "What happened?" Duzell ran a hand through his loose hair and froze. His long black hair was, well, white. White as snow on an early winter morning. "Holy Sidia!" he cursed, grabbing a fistful of the white mass and running it through his hands, inspecting it.

"Yeah, well, that's the least of it," Phelios muttered, uncharacteristically dark. "What you cast back there was straight up blood magic." Phelios crossed his arms. "At least you're eyes are still green."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Listen, how many humans do you know that can cast blood magic?" Duzell scowled and looked away, refusing to meet his brother's eyes.

"It could have been a fluke. Anyways, what's more important is I'm disqualified now." Phelios gave his twin a look that suggested the older prince didn't quite believe that the tournament was more important than Duzell being a vampire. When Phelios didn't respond, Duzell took his silence for ignorance. "You know. The ban on blood magic? It's supposed to discourage contestants from making deals with undead bloodsuckers?"

"I know, but I don't think you should be worrying about the tournament right now."

"Oh? So you're saying you think I'm a vampire?"

"Yes! I've been saying it for a while. I don't think you're going to go full-ghouly on us, but you should be prepared for weird stuff like this."

"How, exactly, does one prepare for instinctively sucking the life out of another person?" Phelios hesitated, unsure how to exactly field this question. Duzell began pulling at his bizarrely white locks in agitation. He was glaring at the offending hairs as if it was their fault they'd turned such an alarming color. Phelios was spared from having to provide an answer by their 'uncle's arrival. Laphiji was standing in the doorway looking particularly reaper-like in head-to-toe black and with an envelope in hand. He walked directly to Duzell, handing the boy the envelope.

"You've been disqualified from the tournament… I think you should return to the castle." He paused, turning to consider Phelios. "Are you withdrawing from your fight?" he asked. Phelios looked surprised.

"No. Not at all." Laphiji looked slightly puzzled. He stood there perplexed, but at length seemed to accept the answer. The taciturn man nodded once and left the room without further discourse. The two princes shared an uneasy look once he'd left.

"That was…"

"Strange," Duzell supplied. Phelios got a peculiar look on his face and turned to his twin.

"Do you think he thinks we're…?"

"St. Phelios, no! I'd rather marry Thisbe."

"Who?"

"The red-head." Both boys gave a shudder at the thought and tried to put the suggestion out of their minds.

"You should get going," Phelios reminded him. Duzell shrugged.

"Don't want me to stay for your fight?" Phelios shook his head, gently pushing his brother towards the door.

"I'll reenact it for you later if you want me to, but I don't think it's a good idea to go back out there just yet." Duzell relented, moving toward the street exit.

"Luck," he muttered, pulling at the handle.

"Thanks," Phelios replied. Duzell pulled open the door and slipped into the street, leaving his brother and the arena behind. He was greeted with stares. Some citizens had obviously been waiting for him to emerge. That, or news got around particularly fast in La Naan. Duzell ignored them and was content to hurry on unencumbered when he felt a familiar and particularly unwanted stare. Against his better judgment, he looked. There she was, watching him like some lurking vulture. This time, instead of the obscure gaze of longing, she looked vaguely smug. Duzell glared back at her, but she didn't seem to mind. She smiled and dropped a bow. Angry, Duzell turned away and hurried to the castle. He had a bad feeling about that girl.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey, folks! I'm back!! Sorry about the delay : (. I warned you I was inconstant ever so... Anyways, thanks for all the love and support! As always, tell me what you think. I love hearing people's guesses as to what will happen next. Who knows, maybe I'll be inspired and change the stroy to incorporate the idea if I really like it : ). Much love to you all. See you next chapter. **

--

"_Lady Iahtar, you are a direct descendant of the Holy King Phelios. Your veins are a sacred vessel for his sainted blood. It is your duty to marry a man who will strengthen this bloodline and produce an heir worthy of you holy ancestry."_

--

Lady Ramia insisted it was the shock of the event that had turned Duzell's hair white. No one else dared to voice their opinion, but it was still clear that Lady Ramia's beliefs were not of the majority. That night, the prince deviated from every possible social tradition and took dinner in their rooms. The meal was not pleasant. Phelios seemed at a loss for words and Duzell was caught between impotent anger and perplexed wonder. He would periodically grab the ends of his hair throughout the evening and raise them to eye level, staring at them as if willing their old color to return. Naturally, he was to be continually disappointed with the results.

"It's not going to change back, already." Phelios added, putting down his fork. Neither had consumed much. Instead, Phelios had spent the last half-hour pushing food around his plate while Duzell's meal remained relatively untouched.

"Quiet… Aren't you supposed to eat that? You're a 'finalist' now." Duzell was actually proud that he didn't sound too bitter when he said it. Phelios had won his own match by the skin of his teeth. He would be facing last years champion the next morning as Duzell had disqualified and Yuujel had been subjected to a forced medical withdraw. Phelios had few illusions about his skill. Yes, he had made it to the finals, but the reigning champion was a seasoned fighter and one very likely to tan his hide in the upcoming match.

"I guess," Phelios replied, resuming his trick of pushing the food around. He reluctantly lifted a forkful and took a bite.

"You don't think you'll make it tomorrow?" Duzell guessed, starting to twist the ends of his bleached hair together. Phelios shrugged, chewing slowly and looking pensive. He swallowed.

"Of course I will. If you don't have confidence in yourself, you admit defeat before the battle even begins," Phelios said, sounding like he was reciting from a 'Helpful Quotes' book. Duzell raised a freshly re-colored white eyebrow.

"Keep telling yourself that. It's a miracle either of us have gotten this far."

"Doubting our abilities?"

"Listen, if I hadn't done… whatever I did today there is no way I would have beaten Yuujel. In case you didn't see, he was beating the crap out of me."

"Oh, I saw. The whole stadium saw."

Duzell frowned, yanking at his hair again. That was right. The whole of La Naan had seen him go vampire on the poor noble and now he looked like he was prematurely grey. Or white. Whatever. The point was that if there hadn't been rumors about him being a vampire king's reincarnation before, then there certainly were now. Only the Dread Vampire King Duzell and people over the age of sixty had white hair, and everyone in the kingdom of Pheliosta knew it. Duzell's life of denial was over.

"What if I really am a vampire?" Duzell mumbled, staring in horror at his hair.

"Well, you're not at the moment. I guess you could use your inherent magic to, I dunno, change forms into one, but you're human for now." Duzell just shook his head. He didn't even have a reply for that one. He pushed his plate away.

"I'm done. I'll go call the maid for the plate," he said, standing up from his chair across the small in-room table from his brother. Phelios looked up, watching his brother.

"Yeah. Okay." He forced another mouthful down. He really should try to eat for the match the next day, but every swallow repulsed him. If only he could stop worrying about Duzell long enough to focus on himself. The whole selflessness bit was really not helping him in this particular instance. After a few more quick bites he put aside his tray for the maid to collect. She showed up shortly, sweeping away the remains of their picked-at dinner. "I'm going to bed," Phelios announced, stripping of his shirt as he headed for the door that would lead to his bedroom.

The princes split a parlor with two bedrooms and a bathroom adjoining. Duzell nodded, but made no move to follow his brother's example. He settled for gazing out the window at the courtyard. Something white flashed in the moonlight and Duzell narrowed his eyes. Great Sidia! Not again! Seiliez and Laphiji were in the garden, leaning in close to one another and talking. Duzell repressed the urge to bash his head against the stone windowsill. Was he cursed? Mostly likely, yes. Duzell reeled back from the window and slammed the shutters closed. He'd had enough for one day.

--

Phelios hadn't won. He'd put up a hell of a fight, dragging the match out for a good seven minutes before conceding defeat. Lady Ramia's predictions had been accurate and someone from La Naan won the tournament. Duzell supposed he would have felt the disappointment more sharply if he hadn't been so preoccupied with his own freakish physical alterations. He left all of the bemoaning to Phelios, who did a poor job of it.

When asked if he was upset about losing, the amicable prince simply smiled and stated that he was pleased with how far he had progressed and that there was nothing to envy in his loss. It had shaken Duzell out of his self-pity stupor long enough to wonder if he and his brother were really related. He was fond of the theory that his parents had found the abandoned child of a monster and a human and just decided to take him in and say he was Duzell's brother. It was completely something their mother would do.

They'd spent their last day in La Naan sequestered in the palace walls. Duzell was too ashamed to venture out into the city and Phelios was to conscious of his little brother's feelings to leave him alone for too long. They spent most of the day in the courtyard, Duzell hiding behind the binding of a book and Phelios chatting with Lady Elenor about her approaching nuptials.

The lady, it seemed, had little to occupy her time lately, as her mother-in-law to-be was managing all of the wedding arrangements, from flowers to guests to food. Lady Elenor was silently pleased to be allowed to decide on how her dress should be made. No one but Seiliez knew that Laphiji was utterly miserable about the whole tangled affair and would flee from the room every time someone attempted to ask him about the arrangements. Duzell and Phelios had not brought up what they had witnessed that night not even a week prior. Duzell was trying to block the business from his mind, while Phelios felt it should be resolved by the involved parties without his extraneous interference.

When the bell tower struck three, the princes were happily on their way to the throne room to take their official leave and be on their way. As much as they disliked having their uncle join them on the trip, they were both eagerly looking forward to returning to their home. Only a week had passed, but the events of that week made it seem so much longer and both were bone-weary of life in La Naan. The plan was they'd say a quick, private goodbye to Lady Ramia and be on their way. So, it is easy to say they were both thoroughly and entirely surprised to enter the throne room and find it filled with solemn, disapproving faces.

Lady Ramia was seated on her dais, her eldest standing to her right. Laphiji stood at the bottom of the circular stone landing, dressed for travel. The royal Razenia family stood to the left of the throne, the monkey of a Princess restrained in her father's arms. What really caught Duzell's attention and caused him to step back with a barley audible hiss was the pristinely dressed redhead standing smack dab in the center of the cluster as if she were the cool little center of the universe. Behind her stood and aging man, obviously noble, with fading brown hair and deeply defined crows feet. His face was red with some kind of exertion and he looked as if he'd just finished the telling-off of his life.

Ramia coolly eyed her grandnephews as they entered the room. She turned her head back to the aging gentleman. Her face was devoid of its usual smug smile, making her look stern and almost foreboding.

"The princes, just in time, Lord Forden," she said, her tone matching her chilled gaze. "Duzell, come here child," she said, returning her attention to the princes. Duzell shifted nervously and felt like his legs were dragging marble shoes across the floor as he approached the dais. "Duzell, Lady Forden informs me that you are engaged to his daughter."

The room was dead silent. Duzell was sure he'd swallowed his own tongue and would never be capable of speech again. Phelios collected calm was gone and he gaped openly in amazement. No one else seemed to find the news new, even if it was still quite alarming. Duzell shuddered involuntarily and tried to think of something to say.

"Pardon?" he managed in a shaky voice. He was starting to regain some of his higher processing abilities, which he quickly put into use by glaring at the girl. She simply smiled demurely. Lord Forden cleared his throat.

"My daughter informs me," he began in a gravely voice, "that you made a promise of engagement to her two nights ago and that you had been meeting in secret since before then," the man accused, glowering at Duzell like the was some galvanizing rogue who made a habit of bamboozling young ladies. "She took this promise in good faith and was alarmed to hear the young prince was leaving La Naan without formally declaring their intentions. I am quite appalled by this! I demand this young man keep his promise to my sweet Thisbe," the man finished. Duzell was making a decided effort against attacking the mad little vixen. His fists were clinched and he was sure Phelios could actually hear his teeth grinding. Lady Ramia turned to him again.

"Is this true, Duzell?" she asked, serious and unforgiving. Duzell was so overcome; he didn't think he'd be able to speak. Phelios quickly stepped in for him.

"Surely it can't be, Great-Aunt," he said, trying to sound diplomatic. "My brother is acquainted with the young lady, but I can vouch that he did not make any promises to her or impugn her virtue in any way," he tried. Duzell crossed his arms.

"We were only alone together a few times, anyways," he managed, speaking slowly and with great effort. Phelios nodded to back up his brother's statement and then immediately wished he hadn't. A look of surprise came across Lady Ramia's face and Duzell could swear he saw the gleam of triumph in the red-haired sorceresses eyes. Lady Ramia sat up straighter in her throne, her furs shifting around her shoulders as she moved.

"You were with the young lady without a chaperone present?" she asked in that courtly, 'simply-appalling' manner. Phelios winced and Duzell pressed his lips together. He knew his eyes must be wide as green saucers. That etiquette code was beyond ancient, from before even his parent's time. Surely they weren't going to bury him on that custom, were they? Laphiji, surprisingly, was the next to speak.

"Even so, Duzell has to marry from the Phelios line," he added, voice quiet and calm. Lord Forden looked to his daughter and took a shuffling step forward. Lady Ramia's eyes snapped to him.

"I'm afraid my son is right. Your daughter may be from a noble line, but the young prince must marry a descendent of Phelios, even a second born," she announced, trying to appear sympathetic to the elderly lord. He nodded solemnly, but seemed unperturbed.

"But my daughter is a descendent," he announced, reaching into his cloak and pulling out a old, battered crest with the Ci Xeneth symbol engraved on its weatherworn surface. "This was given to one of my maids by a red-haired swordsman who came through this town seventeen years ago. Nine moths later, that maid, a favorite of my wife's, died in childbirth. We took the babe in as out own since we had no other children. To this day I believe that man was the son of Lord Jened of Ci Xeneth, Illsaide." The silence following was broken by a strange muffled gasp that walked the knife's edge of being a sob. Queen Falan's face was ashen white beneath her freckles and she looked about to faint. Her husband loosed an arm from their daughter to steady his wife. She leaned against him, seemingly in a daze.

Lady Ramia courteously ignored Falan's outburst and folded her wrinkled hands firmly in her lap. Duzell thought he was going to gag. The entire thing was incredible! This was hardly an airing of grievances. It was a circus. His own personal circus orchestrated by ringleader redhead! Surely no one actually believed this tale. It was thin at best and had more holes that most cheeses. Who could verify this man's claim was true? Who would expect him to marry the girl because they'd been alone without a chaperone? If his mother had abided by that outdated rule, she likely would have married the first farm-boy she snuck out of the castle to pull a prank on.

"This is a very serious matter." Duzell was aghast at the words tumbling past Lady Ramia's wrinkled lips. It was a sham! A mockery! What was serious about it? Duzell was about to say so when his brother put a hand on his wrist. Duzell looked sharply at the blond. Phelios shook his head subtly, aware of what a yelling-fit would do to his brother's honor and reputation. Duzell stood down and settled for starting at the floor. "There's nothing for it," Lady Ramia asked after a long moment of consideration. "Lady Thisbe will have to accompany the princes back to Pheliosta where the Queen may make a decision." Duzell was horror struck. If his great-aunt was giving this rouse such serious thought, his mother would be all over it. He closed his eyes and tried to suppress a groan.


	12. Chapter 12

**Next chapter! C'mon people. You still have to review to make me happy : C. I shan't forgive slackers! (points finger and has four pointing back at her)… So the, um, plot (…) thickens!**

**I finally have a map posted! For all those interested, this is the address. Don't forget to take the spaces out! **

ht tp : / / img. villagephotos. com / p / 2008-8 / 1321058 / map. jpg

--

"_Rishas… Do you think humans really can…?"_

"_Yes, Your Majesty?"_

"_Never mind."_

--

The assembly of nobles dispersed, Lady Ramia standing to signal the official end to the discussion. Seiliez and Laphiji made eye contact, sharing a coded look before Seiliez swirled out of the room in a flurry of white linen. Laphiji lingered, knowing he was now responsible for the young princes and their newly acquired traveling companion. He hesitated to make contact with the old nobleman and his reportedly adopted daughter. He was not looking forward to dealing with either of them, but it was officially his duty to see to the lady's traveling arrangements. He approached the father and daughter and reached them at the same time as Queen Falan.

Falan had handed over their squirming child to her husband just moments after hearing Illsaide's name. She couldn't take her eyes off the little red-haired girl. She was slender and tall, like Illsaide had always been. Her chin was pointed, and her eyes were sharp and intelligent like Illsaide's. Green, not blue, but Falan could picture them as having the same intensity about them. Then, like a candle being lit behind her soft eyes, the mousey Queen could imagine the contours of a well-loved face reflected in the smooth lines of Thisbe's jaw and brow. The resemblance wasn't striking, but Falan fancied she could see it in little ways. And that hair, auburn-red and only a few shades off of her own beloved brother's color. Falan took a step forward, and then another, until she suddenly found herself standing before the girl.

Falan was watching the girl with such surprising and uncharacteristic intensity that Laphiji decided to reserve talking to his new charge until a later time. He instead turned his attention to the father, quickly engaging the man in a curt discussion of what the noblewoman would and would not be permitted to bring, whether she could ride, and how her constitution would fare under the stress of travel. Old Lord Forden, at first mildly surprised at being addressed so directly and without the exchange of any formalities, gradually divulged that his daughter would only pack the necessary garments and, though she was indeed a delicate flower, she was vital enough to make the journey without too much difficulty. Laphiji half-listened to the man, keeping the other part of his focus on the conversation between Falan and Thisbe.

When Lady Ramia stood to leave the throne room, Phelios capitalized on the opportunity, grabbing his brother and dragging him into the hallway, just beyond the door they had so casually entered not ten minutes prior. He looked around the hall to make sure they were alone, pining his unresisting brother to the stone wall with one hand. Having made sure the coast was clear, Phelios released his brother and tuned sharply to face him, leaning right in to Duzell's space.

"Snap out of it," he whispered to his shell-shocked brother. Duzell was staring blankly downward, unthinkingly. Phelios put his hands on the black-clothed shoulders and shook his brother so that the head of white hair bounced against the marble wall. Duzell blinked and looked up, making contact with his brother's concerned gaze. Satisfied, Phelios stepped back slightly, still keeping the space between them tight so they could whisper. Duzell was scowling at full force, a sure sign he'd returned to his senses.

"What is she thinking?!" He hissed, turning on his heel with the intention of marching back into the throne room and confronting his deceptive semi-stalker. Phelios physically moving to block his way stopped him.

"It wont do any good to yell at her," he advised sagely, smiling lightly at his twin's predicament. The furrows in Duzell's brow deepened and Phelios' grin grew. "Aw, don't do that. You already have white hair, if you get wrinkles people are going to think you're my grandfather," he said, brushing his fingers across Duzell's forehead as if trying to erase the premature lines. Duzell glared, but he did step back and return to leaning against the wall. "Your best shot is to let her tag along, give in to her demands, and then try and talk her out of it. If that doesn't work, you could try begging mom," Phelios suggested brightly.

"You call that advise?" Duzell asked coldly. If Phelios was trying to be funny to get him to feel better, it wasn't working. "We need to expose her as a fraud. Shoot her down in flames," Duzell muttered, a joyous, evil glint in his eyes as he imagined her demise. Phelios' smile turned nervous and he actually leaned away from the vengeful prince.

"Mm, all we need to do for that to work is track down Illsaide." Duzell's 'inner fire of wrath' sizzled out pretty quickly at that reminder. No one, excluding himself, had seen the famed warrior in over twenty years. That brief encounter in the tavern had been a miraculous fluke of nature and a repeat performance seemed as close to impossible as one could get.

"I saw him. At that tavern on the North Road," Duzell admitted. Phelios didn't seem surprised at all.

"I know. I figured it out when I saw you talking." Duzell recoiled, again surprised by Phelios' keen perception of things. It seemed little got past the fair prince. "He could be halfway to Razenia by now, though, for all we know." Duzell had to agree, though reluctant to do so. Even on foot, legends of Illsaide said he was a force to be reckoned with and that he had the stamina of a monster. A few hundred miles in a week wouldn't be unreasonable. "We likely won't be able to catch up with him," Phelios said, knowing what was on his brother's mind. Duzell nodded once, tilting his head back to rest against the wall. His hair slid over his shoulder and he looked at it disdainfully. One thing after another…

Meanwhile, Falan was approaching the shrewd redhead hesitantly, like a moth drawn to a dangerous flame. The girl glanced over at her with a look of passive interest. She curtsied, flushing out her blue skirts and dropping her head in the foreign Queen's presence. Falan jolted, as if struck and reached out a pale hand to touch the girl's shoulder.

"Oh! You don't have to do that," she said, giving a matronly smile. Thisbe looked up through a cascade of red bangs, nodded, and rose from her genuflection.

"May I help you, Your Majesty?" she asked.

"It's nothing much, dear. I just wanted a word with you," Falan said with a smile, slowly retrieving her confidence. She stepped forward, closing the distance, and linked her arm with the teen's own. "Will you walk with me?" she asked with natural enthusiasm. Falan deeply wished for the girl to like her, for some reason. Thisbe nodded again, giving her acquiescence, not that she really had the ability to refuse someone of such greater status.

The two women turned toward the west side of the room, leading to the chambers along the palaces outer wall, away from the hall where the princes huddled in conference. Thisbe opened the door for her impromptu companion and the two walked into a small antechamber with a small table and two decorative chairs. Perfect for Falan's purpose.

Falan took a seat and motioned for Thisbe to do the same. Falan waited for the girl to get settled before she began.

"It must all seem very romantic to you. I was about your age when I married," Falan began amicably. Thisbe nodded, face dead serious and eyes unclouded.

"Terribly, Your Majesty. The prince is such a courteous, kind suitor." Falan didn't quite think that sounded like the Duzell she knew, but love could change a young man.

"You must be excited to be visiting Queen Ishtar, as well. Oh, I know you'll like her! She's so nice and fun to be around," Falan encouraged, smiling gaily at the remembrance of her younger days. Thisbe sat quietly and did not respond. Falan shifted nervously, trying to think of a acceptable bridge into the subject she wanted to discuss. She was saved the trouble by Thisbe suddenly speaking.

"Forgive me, Your Highness, but what is it you really want to ask me?" she said, looking at the Queen from the corner of her luminous green eyes. Falan blushed, looking quickly at her lap before raising her chin and facing her companion.

"I apologize. I did not realize I was so apparent," she said with all natural sweetness of character. "Have you, by any chance, had contact with Illsaide, your birth father? Do you know where he is? How he's doing?" Falan asked, leaning forward unintentionally to catch every word Thisbe might utter. Her voice was rising in her eagerness. Thisbe simply stared back at the anxious monarch. After a moment, her green eyes softened and she looked away.

"I can't be who you're looking for," Thisbe said. "I know nothing of my father, and I imagine we have little in common. I can't be your link to him, Your Majesty. I pity you, but there is nothing I can do." Thisbe sat ramrod straight and didn't hesitate for a moment as she said her piece. Falan visibly shrunk at the words, her chin drooping again.

"I-I see. I'm sorry for projecting my hopes on to you," Falan apologized. Thisbe returned her stead gaze to the dejected woman. She did pity her, but it was not her place to offer comfort.

"Not at all," she returned. "I know what it's like to be disappointed in love," she said without pause. Falan looked up at the girl, slightly surprised. Such a young girl… How could she have such experiences? "I'm also sorry for what this means regarding your daughter, the Princess Ranee." Falan shook her head.

"The arrangement was never finalized. My daughter has suffered a great loss today, I'm afraid," Lady Falan said courteously. She had actually been a little alarmed when Duzell and Ranee's 'arrangement' hadn't been brought up in the throne room.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty, but my fiancé will most certainly be looking for me." Thisbe rose, dropped another low curtsey, rose, and slipped from the room. Falan looked after her longingly, her hands tightly folded in her lap. Her intensity lagged and she drooped back into the rigid chair.

"Illsaide…"

Thisbe returned to the throne room, approaching her father and the taciturn lord. Her father seemed to be going on about something, and she caught her name a few times as she drew closer. When she reached her father's elbow, he turned to her with a tired smile.

"Thisbe, Prince Laphiji will be accompanying you on the journey to Pheliosta," he said with a kind smile. Thisbe turned her attention to her birth-lands 'prince' and dropped a small curtsey.

"Thank you. Please take care of me," she said formally. Laphiji inclined his head and Thisbe rose from her curtsey. The two looked at each other, head on as if trying to learn everything about the other from a single look. They both dismissed each other at almost exactly the same time, both looking away, Thisbe toward the door concealing the princes and Laphiji to Lord Forden.

"We'll postpone the departure to tomorrow morning," Laphiji stated in his traditional monotone. His mother always took twice as long to pack as he and his brothers and he half-expected all girls to be the same in that regard. Plus, it was polite to offer the lady time to prepare and say goodbye. Lord Forden thanked him profusely and assured him Thisbe would be ready to leave at first light. The elderly lord took his and his daughter's leave and turned to go, but was stopped by a slender hand resting on his elbow.

"Father, may I stay to speak with the prince?" Thisbe asked, her face unexpressive, but her voice slightly gentler than usual. Lord Forden hesitated, looking around the room, unsure. "Prince Laphiji will be willing to chaperone, no doubt," she said. Laphiji was of a mind to protest, but decided he'd let the girl do what she would as he'd have to deal with her during the entirety of the journey to Pheliosta. He neither nodded nor showed dissent.

"Very well, Thisbe. I'll have Alec wait to show you home when you're finished," he said. The pale hand fell from his elbow.

"Thank you, father," she said, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes graced her lips. The man nodded good-naturedly and left the throne room. Once he was gone Thisbe turned to her 'chaperone'. "You don't have to stay with me," she said. "I know where the prince went." She was frank, not sweet. Laphiji scowled at her. She was beginning to reek of manipulation. Still, if she had the guts to go after the youngest prince in such a brazen manner, he wasn't going to intervene unless things got out of hand. Laphiji nodded.

"Go to it," he said, turning away from her and padding out of the room before she even had a chance to reply. Thisbe didn't smile or frown. She merely turned her attention to the door the princes had exited through and made her way over. They probably hadn't gotten far. Especially with Duzell in his state of shock. They shouldn't be to hard to find.

She was pleasantly surprised to find they hadn't moved at all. Upon opening the door and emerging into the hallway, she almost walked right into Phelios. Fortunately, both possessed enough grace and agility to avoid the collision.

"You," Duzell groaned, reaching up to drag a hand across his face in exasperation. Thisbe actually had the sense to look moderately bashful. She dropped into a low curtsey, keeping her eyes lowered.

"I apologize for the deception, my lord. It was the only way," she said softly. Thisbe did not rise on her own and she stayed crouched in a curtsey for several slow moments. Duzell glared at her with something akin to disgust.

"Get up. You're not helping yourself," he said finally. Thisbe rose, her knees audibly cracking as she did so. Phelios winced at the noise, but neither Thisbe nor Duzell seemed to notice it. She stared at him, her eyes tracing over the length of white hair.

"My lord looks more like his former self now," she commented softly. Phelios cocked an eyebrow at the comment. So she was aware of the 'vampire reincarnation' complication, as Duzell had said. She didn't seem like the nutcase Duzell painted her as. Phelios was actually more inclined to think her a genuine reincarnation than a simple overzealous admirer. Duzell frowned at her, squaring his shoulders as her glared at her.

"I don't look like anything," he snapped. He was still touchy over the white-hair-thing.

"You're quite the actress, Lady Thisbe," Phelios intervened, utilizing the opportunity. Thisbe turned her cool gaze on him.

"Prince Phelios," she greeted without even a nod or recognition. It irked Duzell, but Phelios didn't seem to notice and Thisbe said nothing further. She seemed bent on keeping her thoughts on the older twin to herself.

"What exactly are you after, Lady Thisbe?" Phelios tried, his court smile pasted firmly across his face. Thisbe blinked, as if caught unprepared by the question.

"I just want to get my way for once," she said after a moment. Both princes seemed at a loss for what to say. Thisbe saw the hesitation and swooped in to plant a kiss on the unsuspecting Duzell, she cupped one hand around his chin, grabbed a fistful of white hair in the other, and pressed her full lips to his. Duzell tried to recoil, but she had hold of him. He opened her mouth to protest and was stunned again when she took advantage of his parted lips. As quickly as the kiss had started, it was suddenly over. Lady Thisbe dropped a quick curtsy.

"My lord," she said, completely unapologetic this time. When she rose, she looked almost mournful. Not waiting to be scorned, she turned and disappeared back through whence she'd come. Phelios looked over at his brother after her departure.

"And having her after you is a bad thing because…?"

"Shut up."


	13. Chapter 13

**ZOMFG!!! **

**Yup, that's what you're all thinking. I **_**updated**_**?! o.O**

**But, Gere, we thought this story was DEAD! Well, it's not : P. We just went on a nice eight-month hiatus. **

**Like I've cautioned before, I'm unpleasantly ADHD. You may prepare your pitchforks since that's really all the penance I can offer for the delay. **

**Happily, though, we have an UPDATE : D! As always, I want to hear you thoughts and ideas. You all are my editors. Tell me what works and what doesn't : ). **

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_The child stared doubtingly, almost accusingly at his mother. _

"_This is really what you want?" he demanded. "You're going to sacrifice yourself to that pathetic human? Just so you can get your revenge on King Duzell?!" _

_The child gazed imploringly, angrily up at his mother's face. She smiled softly without a word, her face shrouded in an emotion the child couldn't understand. Her full red lips parted in exhale and then she was gone. _

"_That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" The child called, a last attempt to drown his pain in false bravado._

--

After a very unpleasant and not terribly restful night, Duzell and Phelios met with the sending off party in the front of the castle's inner gates. Duzell was visibly sulking, refusing to converse with anyone, including his misleadingly chipper older brother. Vord, Seiliez, and Lady Ramia's Chancellor had gathered to see them off as official La Naan representatives.

Laphiji was standing by the stable boy, checking over the horses in preparation for their journey. The sound of horse hooves and carriage wheels drew everyone's attention to the gate. A respectably expensive carriage rolled into the court. A footman jumped down from his post and opened the door for Lord Forden and handed down his adopted daughter.

Phelios was surprised to see that the girl had dressed sensibly, even modestly. She wore a very plain, very brown traveling dress made of durable material. Her shoulders were clothed in an eye-matching green jacket and her hands were sheathed in leather riding gloves. It was remarkably sensible for a girl brought up in a noble house. He silently wondered if she'd had help picking it out.

The footman carried her luggage over to the stable boy, where it was added to the packhorse's burden.

Duzell had gone from sulky to hostile. He scowled openly at the girl, making no secret of his disdain. She and her father paid their respects to the royals and joined the small gathering. Pleasantries were exchanged between those socially adept enough to manage them. Satisfied with the state of the horses, Laphiji glided up to the little cluster. Lord Forden turned to him and bowed.

"I have written a letter to Her Majesty explaining and begging her pardon for my daughter's imposition. Thisbe carries it with her," he informed Laphiji who curtly nodded in response.

Thisbe was standing to her father's side like a cool, deceptively demure statue. She did not look Duzell's way once despite the holes his glare was burning into her head. When Lord Forden moved, she tilted her face up so he could kiss her on the forehead and bid hi farewell as he returned to the carriage. The footman swung back up to his place and the driver flicked the reins. The carriage rolled out of the court the way it had come.

Vord glanced at the half-risen sun. He turned back to his second oldest brother.

"You better go," he said with an easy grin. He turned to the princes and his smile widened. "Falan sends her love, but we thought it best to let her and Ranee have a lie in. You two take care." He shook each of his nephews' hands in turn. The stable boy approached, leading the horses. Phelios said goodbye to his uncles and the Chancellor and swung up onto the horse. Duzell stonily mounted without even glancing the delegations way. He stared angrily at his horse's neck.

The stable boy produced a stepping stool and held out his hand to help Thisbe up. She didn't blink twice at him and swung up onto the horse so that she was sitting astride the animal. Her skirt rode up her leg a bit, revealing leggings and riding boots. She received some surprised, even askance, looks, but seemed unaffected by the attention. Duzell still stared determinedly at his horse.

Laphiji offered a nod of his head in farewell, his eyes lingering on Seiliez who did not meet his eyes. Then, without a word, he nimbly mounted his own horse, taking the lead for the packhorse. Vord called out a last farewell and the odd traveling party departed.

The first day was uncomfortably and determinedly mute. Even Phelios held his tongue. Mostly because his brother was brooding, Laphiji was not a conversationalist in general, and he felt uncharacteristic genuine dislike for the deceptive Lady Thisbe. She didn't seem bothered by the silent treatment. Phelios wondered what would upset the ever-composed girl.

Laphiji called camp just before early evening. He and the princes quickly and efficiently erected a tent for the lady, cared for the horses, and boiled water. Thisbe, quiet and seemingly composed, practically collapsed to the ground after dismounting. She looked about to pass out from exhaustion. Laphiji diverted his attention to her briefly to confirm her health and then disappeared into the forest.

Duzell moodily poked at the fire he and Phelios had coaxed to life. Lady Thisbe sat across the fire and resumed her practice of staring unwaveringly at the youngest prince. Phelios sunk to the ground next to his brother. They both ignored the unwanted girl across from them, sitting in silence for a while.

"You never apologized to Yuujel," Phelios announced abruptly. Duzell lifter his eyes from the flames to look at his brother, the most social action he had exhibited the entire day. Phelios returned the look and continued. "You put him in the hospital. I heard Lady Lenee was quite distraught." They both knew 'distraught' was code for 'jumping mad'. Duzell didn't even smirk.

"He'll live," Duzell muttered blithely, feeling more indifference for Yuujel's plight than guilt. Phelios sighed at the response. Duzell really was remorseless, maybe even cruel towards people he was not immediately involved with.

"You'll have to write a letter of apology," Phelios elaborated. He sent Duzell a meaningful look. "Dad'll make you." Duzell shrugged, still immersed in self-pity and anger. His father's displeasure was the last thing on his mind.

Phelios looked about to continue on this thread when Laphiji returned. He had two rabbits. Phelios noticed that his mysterious uncle hadn't taken a bow with him. He began skinning them. Phelios had to look away, slightly uncomfortable. He glanced toward Thisbe to see if she was repelled like any court lady should be. She was staring almost blankly at Laphiji. She hadn't even flinched.

The rabbits were placed on the fire and served with potatoes from the bags. The dinner was as silent as the journey had been. Phelios didn't attempt conversation again. Laphiji cleared dinner and doused the fire. Thisbe retired to her tent and the men stretched out under the stars.

Dawn came and they set out again. The pace was moderately slower and they took more frequent breaks than the day before. Laphiji appeared to have adjusted the pace for the lady's benefit. The conversation was, again, sparse, but Phelios seemingly unable to cope with the continued silence began a mostly one-sided coolly polite conversation with Thisbe. He stuck to her family, their manor, and if she'd ever been to the capital before.

It was when they stopped for noon break that Thisbe finally approached Duzell.

He glowered at her as she gracefully sunk to the ground next to him and almost moved to stand up. Her sharp gaze stopped him and he grudgingly resigned himself to the inevitability of this confrontation.

"I am sorry to have displeased you, my lord," she began. Duzell whirled on her, white bangs skittering over flashing green eyes.

"What is your problem?" he demanded, hissing his fury. She shook her head slowly, as if disappointed in his response.

"You have changed so much," she said softly, staring wistfully into the trees. Duzell bristled.

"Even… Even if I was… who you think I am, I'm human! I'm a descendant of St. Phelios, second in line for the throne! I can draw the holy sword Sida," he lashed out. Thisbe turned her head again, a small frown marring her face. Duzell took this as a good sign. "I have no memories of a past life," he continued. "I'm clearly not the same as… as I was. As he was. You're chasing a ghost, Rishas," he said, using the girl's original name for the first time.

She turned icy cold green eyes on him. He did not recoil from her, a hidden and inexplicable confidence bolstering him against the frightening stare. He instinctively knew she could not defeat him.

"The great King I loved is dead," she admitted, almost in a whisper, "and when I discovered that I thought you inferior and unsuitable, but when I went with Sharlen… I was surprised to find that I still loved you. It was… perplexing… You were no longer the aloof, cruel King. You were… tamed to her hand. Still I found I loved you." Her eyes grew hard suddenly, accusing. "I spent three years in _Hell_ waiting for you, my lord. I've loved you for two life times. I am unable to shake your hold and I have decided that this time I will have you by any means possible. I will not be fate's victim again," she finished.

Duzell stared blankly at her, without pity.

"I have no idea what you're talking about at all," he said coldly. Thisbe lowered her eyes briefly before raising them to his again.

"You don't need to, my lord. It does not sway me," she said softly, not dropping his merciless eyes. She almost smiled. Three lives and there were still certain parts of him that remained unchanged.

"We're heading out," Phelios called from where he and Laphiji stood by the horses, drawing the two teens attention. As Duzell and Thisbe swung onto the saddles Phelios eyed his brother curiously, planning to extract the details of the visibly tense conversation he and Thisbe had been engaged in.

Laphiji led them on, looking like a resentful mother duck with her forced charges trailing persistently behind.

They trundled into Pheliosta castle just as the sun was setting. Balan met them at the front doors, panting and wheezing from his mad dash to greet them. After regaining his breath he bowed low to the princes and their uncle.

"Your Majesties," he said, rising from his bow, "welcome back. I am pleased that you have arri…" he trailed off, his jaw falling slack and his eyes bulging. There was an expectant silence as the Chancellor gawked. "Y-Your H-Highness…" he blustered. Duzell testily shifted his weight from side to side.

"There was an… accident, Balan," Phelios interceded, attempting to soothe the alarmed man. "Prince Duzell is otherwise unharmed," he assured. Balan stared blankly before he remembered himself. He suddenly colored, clearing his throat nervously.

"Of… Of course, Your Highness. I, um, regret to inform you that Her Majesty and General Darres have been called away…" Balan attempted to recover; still casting startled glances at the altered prince.

"Mom ran off again?" Duzell interpreted gruffly. Balan colored even more and he suddenly developed a keen interest in the mosaic lining the walls. While he was looking around, his eyes landed on Laphiji and he visibly jumped.

"Lord Laphiji! Thank you for escorting the princes. Will you be staying long?" he asked deferentially.

"The night," Laphiji replied. He was eager to drop his nephews and their charming companion. He knew his mother wanted him to have children, but he honestly couldn't picture himself interacting with a child on a regular basis.

Balan nodded, waving a maid over and giving her instructions. She curtsied and hurried off along the corridor. He turned back to the arrivals with a smile when he noticed the quiet beauty lurking behind them.

"Ah…" he prompted, drawing attention to the girl.

There was an awkward silence while Thisbe waited for someone to introduce her. Phelios, after a brief hesitation, plastered on his patent smile and stepped back to allow the lady through.

"Balan, this is Lady Thisbe of La Naan. She will be staying with us for a time, I believe," he announced congenially. Thisbe curtsied.

"Your Grace, forgive my imposition," she said demurely. Balan smiled, bowing in return.

"Of course, my lady." The maid returned, standing to the right of the Chancellor. He cleared his throat again. "Lady Thisbe, Sir Laphiji, this is Bess. She'll show you two your rooms." Bess curtsied again.

"This way please, Sir, Lady." She led them down the hall and around a corner, out of sight.

"We're going to bed too, Balan," Phelios announced, grabbing his brother's arm and hauling him in the direction of their rooms. "Good night."

"Yes. Good night, Your Majesties," Balan called as the two royals disappeared into the confines of the castle.

--

The next morning saw Laphiji making a very swift departure from the palace, staying barely long enough to not appear excessively rude. Phelios saw him off. Duzell had rolled out of bed and gone mysteriously missing.

Balan gave Thisbe a tour of the castle. She refused to reveal her purpose for traveling to Pheliosta, stating that it was a delicate matter that must be discussed with the Queen first. Balan was content, even pleased with the formality of her excuse.

Around noon, it occurred to Phelios to look for his absent brother. No one had seen Duzell since early that morning. The fair prince wandered the grounds, checking the practice grounds first, then the courtyard Duzell frequented, the library, the kitchen… If Duzell was still on the palace grounds, he was doing a commendable job of hiding.

Phelios concluded with more than a little agitation that Duzell has fled the castle. Not the best of ideas, considering their attack on the North Road little more than a week ago and his recent changes. The desire for solitude was all well and good, but Duzell had no business being in the open when his mind and powers were conceivably a ticking time bomb.

Phelios swung by the guardroom to inform Jill and Krai, who spent a good three minutes panicking over General Darres anticipated reaction, of his brother's absenteeism and the three split up to search the town and surrounding farmlands.

After asking around, Phelios was finally able to pick up on his 'tall, white hair, green eyes' brother's trail. He had been worried that he wouldn't be recognized as the second prince, allowing him to slip unnoticed into the crowd. However, it turned out that long white hair was almost as attention grabbing as the second prince wandering around unaccompanied.

He traced his brother to a side road on the edge of town and after inspecting the area found his errant sibling.

Duzell was sitting on a wide hilltop overlooking an orchard. The faint shadows of mountains could be seen in the distant north. Phelios was surprised to realize he recognized the spot, but he could not place where from the memory came.

Duzell looked over his shoulder at the sound of boots on grass. Phelios strode up until he was standing behind Duzell, his hands on his hips in mock disapproval. Duzell made a face that implied he didn't much care what Phelios thought. Phelios gave up and folded his arms instead.

"Could we wrap up the pity party sometime this month?" Phelios asked, more teasing than malicious. Duzell scowled.

"It's not a pity party," he half snapped. Phelios shook his head.

"She's not going away and if it really bugs you we can dye it," Phelios scolded as if relaying a very simple concept to an overreacting child. Duzell turned to look out at the orchard. He drew his knees up, folding his arms over them and resting his chin on top. His white hair fell unbound around him.

"I don't want to think about it…" he began.

"But you can't stop," Phelios finished, dropping easily onto the grass beside Duzell. Duzell pressed his lips together and ducked his head so that it was his forehead resting on his arms, hiding his face.

"Thisbe… Batty as she is, it sounds less and less like she's making up stories," Duzell mumbled. Phelios nodded, leaning his chin on his hand.

"I agree. She's too lucid and manipulative to be truly insane," Phelios commented brightly. Duzell raised his head back up, shooting his brother a lack luster glare. He seemed more tired than annoyed. Phelios sighed, reaching out to grab his little brother's shoulder. Duzell looked at him in response and green and blue eyes met.

"You are who you are now, Duzie," Phelios began confidently. "Whatever is going to happen, will happen. We can't foresee it, so we can't do anything about it. You can brood until your eyeballs fall out, but it's not going to change anything." Phelios paused, cocking his head to the side and smiling a small smile that reached his bright blue eyes. "You've dealt with worse than an overzealous suitor and I can't imagine the hair really bothers you. You're too grungy to be the vain sort," Phelios concluded.

Duzell narrowed his eyes and shrugged his brother's hand off. Phelios didn't seem bothered in the least. Instead, he smiled fondly. The air around the tall prince seemed to be less oppressive than it had been just a moment before.

"Yeah, alright," Duzell mumbled with pseudo grouchiness.

He rested his chin on his arms again, looking out at the orchard. Phelios took the opportunity to study the little hilltop in greater detail. It really was elusively familiar.

"Where are we?" he asked, returning his attention to his brother. Duzell flicked his eyes Phelios' way, but didn't move.

"Mom and Dad used to bring us here for picnics during the summer. When we were little," he explained. A look of sudden understanding bloomed on Phelios visage.

"Oh! I knew I recognized it. Hmm… I remember. Back when Sir Galahad was alive. Grandma and everyone would come out here." Phelios' face abruptly split into a wide grin. "You and Mom made a kite and you rolled all the way down the hill because you weren't watching your footing," Phelios recalled with glee. Duzell snorted indignantly.

"And you cried like a girl when that bee stung you," Duzell fired back. Phelios winced at the recollection, absently rubbing his leg, soothing a phantom wound.

"By the way," Phelios said loudly, clearly pushing for a change in topic, "what were you talking about with Thisbe? More marriage plans?" Phelios teased.

Instead of the ire and grumpiness Phelios expected, Duzell's brow drew into a clear display of confusion.

"I… I'm not sure. I didn't understand half of what she was going on about," he admitted.

"Past life stuff?" Phelios guessed.

"Pretty much," Duzell shrugged. "The only thing I caught was that she's in love with me and has a boulder on her shoulder because of it," he confessed. The confused expression was still painted across his brow, a slight frown tugging at his full lips.

"Do you like her?" Phelios asked without preamble. Duzell snapped his head around, eyes wide with shock.

"No!" Duzell snapped vehemently. Phelios looked pensive for a moment.

"I admit, she doesn't make a very good first impression, but we don't really know her…" he mused with his usual diplomatic consideration.

"First impression?!" Duzell sat up straight. For a second, Phelios thought his twin was going to jump to his feet in outrage. "She conned her way into marrying me! She's… She's…" Whatever she was, the words need to describe it were apparently beyond Duzell.

Phelios smirked, commenting, "You're not a married man just yet." Duzell didn't even seem to hear him. He was still trying to articulate just what kind of vile Thisbe was. "She's gorgeous, too. Seems the loyal sort as well," Phelios added. Duzell was seething.

"Yeah, in the creepy stalker way!" Duzell ran a hand through his snowy hair in agitation. "Look, I know nothing about her and what I do know says she's not even remotely trustworthy. She's a vampire assassin for all we know," Duzell insisted.

"A vampire assassin?" Phelios chuckled, causing Duzell to scowl. "Really?"

"You know what I mean," Duzell snapped defensively.

"It's kind of romantic if you think about it. A woman chasing her love through three lifetimes," Phelios grinned broadly, leaning back on his hands and tilting his head innocently.

"No it's not and she wasn't a woman," Duzell groused. Phelios raised a blond eyebrow.

"You.. and a guy?" He practically giggled. "It's what you deserve, the way you're on about Seiliez and Laphiji," Phelios snickered.

His laughter died in his throat when he caught sight of his brother's bleached pale face. Duzell was gripping his knees in near terror. He looked… afraid.

"Du?" Phelios tried softly, leaning cautiously toward his shaken twin. "What…?"

"She never told me that," Duzell whispered. "She never said she was a man, but I… I know she was…" Duzell's eyes snapped imploringly to his older brother. Phelios quickly took Duzell's shoulder again.

"Du. Duzie. It doesn't mean anything," Phelios gently shook the shoulder under his hand. "It doesn't mean anything. Nothing's changed." Phelios licked his lips nervously when this didn't seem to calm his distressed twin.

"Du, look at me." Unfocused green eyes wandered to Phelios' face. Phelios smiled weakly. "Du, you know when you asked me if I… remembered anything…" Phelios trailed off hesitantly. Duzell's eyes went from distant to hyper focused. The shoulder under Phelios' hand grew taught. The fair prince's eyes flickered skittishly to the side. "I… There was a woman… She was," his gaze grew dreamy, "beautiful... Long soft black hair, tall and thin, and so pale…" His voice trembled slightly and he squeezed Duzell's shoulder.

Duzell was staring incredulously at his twin. He was shocked, feeling almost betrayed by his brother's secret. Phelios opened and closed his mouth a few times. Duzell had never seen his charming, articulate brother at a loss for words. Phelios closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Her eyes…" he tried, slowly opening his lids to stare at his brother. "I think she was a vampire," he breathed, hand clutching convulsively at Duzell's sleeve.

The hush that overtook the hilltop was deafening. The sound of the wind and the birds seemed multiplied to an almost unbearable level. Duzell was staring openly at Phelios. The crown prince had his eyes averted in shame.

"You didn't tell me," Duzell whispered into the silence, his voice unable to mask his hurt. Phelios' hand slid limply from his brother's shoulder. Phelios seemed to be gathering his resolve.

"I was afraid… It was frightening," Phelios admitted, sending Duzell a beseeching look. Duzell nodded slowly. He certainly understood that particular fear.

"At least your memories are human," Duzell said after a moment, smiling ruefully. He'd meant it as a joke, but it made the other crumple in shame again.

"It's not knowing I was Saint Phelios," the fair boy smirked, "I don't think that's so bad, but… It's her. That memory of her." Phelios raised a hand to his temple. Duzell studied his brother, slightly bemused.

"It's just a vampire. Phelios fought off hordes of them. It's not surprising he'd remember one or two of them," Duzell consoled. Phelios shook his head in denial, his face contorting in a grimace.

"No. Not this one. She was important. She was special." Phelios sighed, lowering his hand. Duzell was still studying him intently, his own terror seeming to have passed with the crown prince's admission. "I know she was, but… That's what doesn't make sense. Saint Phelios killed vampires, so why would he…" Phelios made a strangled grunt of frustration. Duzell pursed his lips.

"So Goody Great Ancestor got it on with an undead," Duzell stated blithely. Phelios gasped, looking genuinely scandalized for once. Duzell smirked. "Phelios, as everyone's so fond of telling me lately, who you were in a past life is not who you are now. I can't even really see what your problem is. You're twin brother's a former vampire King," Duzell pointed out. Phelios was the one curiously studying the other this time, his head tilted to one side.

"Surely you see the paradox," Phelios began cautiously. "It's almost blasphemy. Saint Phelios and a vampire," he egged. Duzell leveled his frank gaze at the slim prince.

"I don't see how it's that strange. Clearly humans can love vampires. Otherwise we wouldn't have Miss Groupie gracing us with her _delightful_ company. And…" Duzell suddenly blushed. "And you, uh, would still, erm, love me if I became a vampire," Duzell muttered uneasily.

Phelios expression softened immediately. He leaned over throwing his arms tightly around his brother and pulling him close in a hug. Phelios rubbed his cheek against his little brother's shoulder even as the boy struggled to free himself.

"You're right, little bro. I'll always love you. No matter what." He pulled back to smile sweetly up at the flushed face obscured by white bangs. "I'd cast 'La Gamme' for you, Duzie," Phelios vowed. Duzell squirmed at the words, suppressing a shiver.

Phelios squeezed him one last time before releasing his captive sibling. Duzell hopped immediately to his feet as if afraid his brother would try it again. Phelios smiled sunnily up at him.

"I'm going back," Duzell announced, turning on his heel, white hair trailing behind as he marched away. Phelios smirked, rising to his feet and dusting grass from his pants. Mission Accomplished.

--

**8 D**


	14. Chapter 14

**Back again : ). And so soon, too! Hopefully this flurry of activity will last ; )  
**

**So, is this like the song that never ends? I'm 38,000 words in and I'm not sure I've even gotten to the good parts yet… Still, if everybody's entertained, I can't really complain.**

**I wonder if I subconsciously don't like Darres? I keep portraying him as jerk-ish and slow when I don't mean to… I even thought he was a better match for Ishtar in the series! Maybe it's because this story is sort-of from Duzell's perspective. Hmm…**

**Speaking of, don't be shy if I'm going too OOC. I mean, well, everyone's OOC since I'm not Judal ; ), but if it gets out of hand I'd like a heads up! **

**Also, someone asked me if this is going to be a Duzell/Phelios fic and I figured that I'd get it out in the open that, no, it's not. I'm really sorry if I dashed any hopes and I hope D/P shippers will keep reading this anyway!**

**Kisses again to all my lovely readers, and I want to say thanks for the support to Inez, Jade, and Lill, StarDuchess (thanks for the dialogue advice and I hope I did better this chapter!), and Hysteria82 : D. **

--

_The woman looked down in shame from where she rested on the bed, unable to leave. _

"_Yes… Your Majesty, I am human. In this life I had the misfortune to be reincarnated…" her voice grew subtly bitter, "as Lailis, Queen of the Doomed Land of Lodoc."_

_Ishtar's green eyes grew serious and wondering, contemplative almost. _

'_The Queen of Lodoc?' the intrepid Princess silently wondered. 'Wait, didn't she betray…' _

_Ishtar didn't finish the thought. She was suddenly and decisively eager to leave._

--

As the two princes returned to Pheliosta castle, they could tell their parents had returned. It was apparent from the way that people frantically ran around. The Queen had a natural touch for creating frenzy and panic wherever she went.

This realization seemed to instantly brighten Duzell's disposition, his ordinarily reticent features even daring a smile. His pace quickened and Phelios practically had to skip to keep up with his taller brother. The castle doors were already wide open and the twins rushed through. Their parents were not in the main hall, but voices emanated from the second west parlor. They changed their course for there.

Phelios pushed the door open and Duzell rushed in. As Phelios closed the door a squeal sounded and the 'thud' of furniture being knocked over followed closely after. Ishtar had flying-tackled her son, toppling her chair over in her enthusiasm. Duzell was smiling in the most genuine display of happiness he had exhibited throughout the entire past week.

They had their arms wrapped around each other, but for once they didn't look identical. There was a choked gasp. Phelios looked to his father who was staring in blatant amazement at his youngest's hair. Phelios smiled sympathetically, walking up to stand patiently beside his brother and their elated mother.

Ishtar finally seemed to realize that one of these things is not like the other and she drew back suddenly, grabbing her son's shoulders and looking up at him. Her green eyes flickered excitedly across his bangs and hair. She grinned widely, even a little manically before pushing onto her tiptoes to give her altered son a peck on the cheek. Her arms went around his shoulders again, squeezing as she let out another squeal of excitement.

"I can't wait until your magic kicks in," she announced, finally releasing her child. "Then you can make me things and we wont have to wait for stuff from the market!" she exclaimed enthusiastically.

Duzell stared wonderingly at his unconventional mother. "My hair turns white and you're not in the least bit concerned?" he asked slowly.

Ishtar shook her head and then raised a finger to her lips in thought. "Although, I wonder why it didn't all come back? It came back all at once last time," she mused aloud to herself.

Duzell's eyes widened. Last time?!

"Mom?" Duzell said in an amazed squeak.

Ishtar smiled fondly at him and then rounded on his brother. "What about you, Phel? Any memories yet?" she inquired brightly. Duzell shifted uncomfortably, contemplating his brother's earlier admission.

Phelios, however, simply reflected his mother's sunny smile, tilting his head innocently to one side. "Not yet, Mom. Maybe one day," he consoled, outwardly not bothered by his falsehood in the least. Duzell averted his gaze so that his staring wouldn't give his brother away.

Ishtar gave a sigh of disappointment and hugged her son anyway. Phelios affectionately returned the gesture then stepped away, looking to Darres.

The General was still stuck in a state of bewildered shock, as if he hadn't quite processed the situation yet. Phelios felt a pang of sympathy for his more practical parent. It was one thing for your wife to babble about reincarnations and vampires and it was quite another to see evidence of your son turning into a dread monster from 100 years ago. Heck, Darres probably hadn't even truly believed his wife's far-fetched assertions. Phelios supposed it would have been kinder on Darres if the man'd been kept in the dark. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

Realizing he was the object of his still (mostly) normal son's attention, Darres shook himself from his stupor and stepped forward to stand beside his unfazed wife.

"What happened?" he asked Phelios, as the blond was usually more talkative than his counterpart.

"It happened at the tournament. He was up against… a rather formidable opponent who was just a little out of Duzie's league," Phelios explained with the same easy acceptance his mother exhibited. "He'd been backed into a corner when he started to… glow. His hair turned white and… the guy swayed a little and just fell over, unconscious." There was an expectant lull as Phelios built up to the apex. "It was blood magic," Phelios finished.

"I got disqualified," Duzell pitched in glumly.

Darres was staring openly, only hearing the words 'blood magic' echoing in his brain. Even his gregarious wife was silent. She, however, seemed more sympathetic than shocked. She maternally leaned her head against her littlest boy's shoulder.

"Was the other man alright?" Darres asked, concerned and a little worried. A publicly witnessed killing, even accidental, was not something his little family needed.

He was silently relieved when Phelios nodded. "He was in the hospital, but stable when we left. I checked," Phelios explained. He glanced contemplatively at the ceiling for a moment before deciding that as long as they were dishing out shocking revelations he might as well serve this particular one up. "The opponent was Yuujel, General Ashley's son. We didn't exactly get an opportunity to deliver a formal apology before we left, so Lady Lenee may be… upset."

His father winced and let out a groan at the news. Phelios figured there'd be a few more grey streaks in his father's still predominately black hair by the time this was resolved.

Ishtar let out a grumpy 'humph', crossing her arms. "Her again," she muttered sourly. Duzell privately agreed with his Queen mother's sentiment. Then again, Duzell was dotingly inclined to go along with his spunky mother on just about anything.

Darres rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "You'll need to write out an apology, Duzell," he muttered. "Lenee can hold a grudge, so the sooner, the better."

Ishtar made another disapproving noise. "The kid's as puffed up as his mom. Duzell probably taught him a valuable life lesson," she sniped. Duzell swallowed a smirk, as his father was sending Ishtar a pitifully pleading look. She sighed, but didn't make any further anti-Lenee comments.

"And Lady Ramia…" their father prompted hesitantly, very wary of the answer.

Phelios took pity and decided to dispel his parent's worries. "She was very gracious and understanding," Phelios intoned.

Darres nodded, smiling gratefully at the only other (mostly) sane member of his little family.

"Oh, yeah!" Ishtar exclaimed, remembering her La Naan relatives. "How's Seiliez?" She was inquiring after the only remaining La Naan royal she really liked.

Phelios and Duzell exchanged looks.

"Laphiji's engaged," Duzell dropped, his words going off like a combustion spell in the room.

Darres and Ishtar seemed to react to the news in much the same way their sons and Vord had.

"What the hell?!" the Queen burst out. Darres raised a black eyebrow. "To who?" she shouted.

"To the mousiest girl this side of Razenia," Duzell offered without maliciousness. It just seemed a fact to him.

Phelios sent him a reprimanding glance anyway. "I like Lady Elenor," he protested. "You don't meet many noble's who are genuinely nice nowadays."

Their mother didn't seem particularly concerned with how nice Lady Elenor was. She was still preoccupied with her cousins. "Seiliez and Laphiji have been, like, a thing since before you two were born!" she exclaimed. "Seiliez might dump Laphiji, but no way it'd happen the other way around." She stuttered to a stop and gasped. "Oh no! _Did_ Seiliez dump him?" she demanded, leaning in as if she was going to try and shake the answers from her children. "It's a little late in the game for those two to be switching partners." When Phelios and Duzell didn't immediately spill the goods, she stomped her foot childishly and snapped, "So?!"

"Well," Phelios began, much more inclined to gossip than his aloof sibling, "apparently it's gotten out that Laphiji was adopted… So he's going to be forced out of the castle if he doesn't marry into nobility," Phelios divulged. Ishtar nodded along encouragingly. "So, Uncle Seiliez told him to get married, so he wouldn't have to leave, you know, but apparently he didn't think about what it'd be like to have Uncle Laphiji around, but off limits. And now he's regretting it… And Lady Elenor doesn't know anything about what's going on either. So, Laphiji feels guilty about stringing her along, but hasn't told her yet, because she'll be upset. And even if he does break it off, he's still going to have to leave the castle and Uncle Seiliez," Phelios dished.

Ishtar nodded conspiratorially along, sopping up second-hand family dramas like a sponge.

"No way!" She shook her head reprovingly. "Seiliez is hot, but really not the sharpest rapier in the armory. Too bad he's not a girl or Laphiji could just marry him," she wistfully observed.

Her husband shifted his weight uncomfortably. Much as Duzell liked to think he had nothing in common with his father, it was quite clear from where his itchiness about male relationships came.

"I know," Phelios readily agreed. "Speaking of engaged," Phelios began. Duzell turned to his brother with dawning horror, but, like a carriage toppling over a cliff, it was too late to stop his quick-tongued sibling. "Duzell managed to acquire a fiancé."

For the second time in fifteen minutes, the royal couple looked thunderstruck.

As usual, Ishtar recovered first. She bounced up and down before throwing her arms around Duzell in another hug. "That's great!" she beamed, about to continue in her extolments when her son cut her off with and angry bark.

"No it's not!" he roared in frustration. His mother instantly released him, stepping back in alarm. She stared wide-eyed and perplexed at her irate son. "She's a crazy stalker!" Duzell insisted. "She's only my supposed fiancé because I was 'alone with her without a chaperone' a few times," he complained.

Darres looked contemplatively at his son. Of all the news he'd heard in the past twenty minutes, this seemed to be the lesser evil. This was run-of-the-mill life stuff. Darres could do that, without needing several hours of processing beforehand.

"It's an outdated rule, and even if it wasn't, you can't marry outside the Saint Phelios blood line," Darres observed calmly.

Duzell looked away with a scowl. "She's the Holy Warrior Illsaide's bastard daughter," he grumbled angrily.

Darres suddenly looked as angry as his son. "She is not!" he declared disbelievingly. "That's a pretty brazen lie." The General was firmly of the opinion that, regardless of his personal experience with him, Illsaide was _not_ the sort to go around fathering random children.

Ishtar, however, didn't look so sure. She bit her lip. "Um…" She drew the room's attention. "How many people knew Illsaide was a descendant of Phelios?" she asked with trepidation, sliding an uneasy glance toward her husband. Darres suddenly looked like he was made of stone. "It wasn't exactly common knowledge, was it?" she ventured.

Duzell's face turned ashen. Phelios was surprised and startled he hadn't thought about that himself. He usually didn't make those sort of oversights. Of course the only people who knew Illsaide was a descendent lived under the umbrella that was the royal Phelostian family!

"Duzie." Ishtar's voice was gentle. Her son trained his eyes on her identical ones. "Do you like her?" she asked kindly.

"No," Duzell replied, stubbornly determined.

Ishtar nodded slowly, chewing her lip again. "I want to meet her." She was unsure of the situation, but willing to give the girl a chance.

Darres placed his hand on his wife's shoulder. She covered it with her own. "I think that would be best," he agreed, facing the two teens.

Ishtar pulled away from her husband, her usual confidence restored now that she had a plan of action. She swung the parlor door open and poked her head out. "Go get Balan," she ordered the guard stationed along the wall. "We'll meet him in the throne room. Tell him to bring…" she looked over her shoulder for a name.

"Lady Thisbe," Phelios supplied.

"Thisbe," Ishtar relayed. The guard nodded respectfully and hurried off to find the officious Chancellor. She rounded on her family, still holding the door open. "We better make this a formal thing, ya know," she suggested in the 'I'm Queen and that's not really a suggestion' way.

Darres ushered his boys out of the parlor, practically having to push the reluctant Duzell, who kept dragging his feet. Their little procession marched dutifully into the throne room, passing statue-like guards and genuflecting courtiers. Ishtar smiled and waved to some, but didn't stop to chat.

Two doormen opened the throne room doors and Ishtar made straight for the throne sitting atop a slightly raised dais. She dropped into the chair with the same artlessness she used when plunking down on a sofa.

Her husband moved to stand slightly behind and to the right of her seat. His arms clasped behind his back and his feet shoulder width apart. His decision to forgo Kingship in favor of being a General meant in part that he was expected to act as a sort of high-ranking bodyguard rather than the Queen's equal.

His sons, born royalty despite their father's status, took two chairs to the left, just off of the throne dais.

The room quickly cleared of loitering courtiers. If the Queen was actually in the throne room, it meant something important was going on and privacy was required. Only a handful of statuesque guards remained.

Ishtar leaned her chin on her palm, tapping her fingers against her cheek. Luckily, the impatient monarch wasn't kept waiting for very long. A different set of doors than the ones they'd entered through creaked open and Balan entered followed by the graceful Thisbe.

Ishtar couldn't repress a small smile. For a crazy stalker, the girl was unquestionably beautiful. She briefly worried if there was something wrong with her younger son. He was supposed to be in the prime of his hormonal youth. There definitely had to be something wrong with him, she mused.

Balan straightened up as much as his wanting height allowed and announced in a manner bordering on pompous, "The Lady Thisbe Forden of La Naan, Your Majesty."

The girl curtsied, although it wasn't as deep or as long as Ishtar'd expected. Arrogant little thing, wasn't she? That or she just doesn't like me, Ishtar thought. Thisbe raised her dark green eyes, snatching the Queen's own. Ishtar almost grinned. Yup, she just doesn't like me, the Queen decided.

"Forgive the imposition, Your Majesty" the young beauty said quietly, if a little distantly. She hadn't said anything particularly disrespectful, but to the left Ishtar's baby boy was bristling like a cornered kyawl.

"It's a big castle," Ishtar commented offhandedly. She tilted her head to the side, sizing up her little boy's suitor. "So, you're after my baby, huh?" Ishtar dived in.

Thisbe didn't look fazed or even surprised. "Yes," she affirmed, voice still unyieldingly flat. Ishtar raised an eyebrow at the straightforward answer.

A hiss of pain was heard from the left. Ishtar looked over at Duzell who was glaring at his brother. It looked like Duzell had been about to snap out something when his brother had taken the initiative and kicked him in the shin.

Ishtar grinned. "Mm, you got to be a descendent for that to work," she half teased.

The girl reached into a pocket concealed in her voluminous skirt and withdrew two objects. The first was a sealed envelope. The second was a metal wrought item that Ishtar had a really bad feeling was a crest.

"I have a letter from my adoptive father explaining the circumstances of my birth and a Ci Xeneth crest left to my mother," Thisbe countered.

Darres tensed and had to violently suppress the urge to shout at the girl. Only forty-seven years of self-discipline kept him from throttling her. He didn't like the implications this girl was making.

"Ok, let's see it," Ishtar said holding out her hand. Balan took the letter and crest from the girl and handed them to the Queen. Ishtar broke the letter seal open and skimmed the contents. A black brow shot up beneath her bangs. She passed the letter to her husband who snapped it up and glared angrily at the script on it.

"Hmm…" Ishtar took a moment to really check the teen out. "Yeah, you go red hair, but you and Illsaide don't really look that much alike," Ishtar said, leaning back and crossing her legs.

Thisbe looked unimpressed. "Phelios doesn't look like you," she observed dryly. Ishtar let the absence of title slide even though Balan let out an outraged squeak of offence.

"Latent genes," Ishtar said with a grin, enjoying her private joke. Thisbe stared icily back. Ishtar dropped the grin and focused on the girl before her. "So, why Duzie? If you're looking for a spiffy title, Phel's a way better choice. Crown prince, and all. Heck, we don't even know if Duzie's going to wind up ruling _anywhere_. You might as well shoot for Queen," Ishtar casually pointed out.

Thisbe's face was like stone. "I am not interested in your titles," she cut in sharply.

Ishtar blinked in surprise, intrigued by the answer. "So what do you want?" the curious monarch asked.

Thisbe leveled a piercing stare at her. "For things to go my way," the mysterious girl answered coolly.

There was a pause. Ishtar frowned, something nagging at the back of her mind. Her brow wrinkled in concentration. Then, instinctively, something clicked. Darres and Balan were studying the girl with wary bemusement, but Ishtar was staring at her with donning wonder. The Queen's eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open. Thisbe stared defiantly up at her.

"Oh my God," Ishtar exhaled, annunciating each word in turn. She recoiled as if worried the red-haired teen was going to bite her. Her eyes were wide. "Lady Lailis?" she chocked in a questioning whisper.

The instant the words left her mouth, Darres was in front of her, hand on his swords hilt defensively.

Thisbe remained unchanged. She seemed to have expected Ishtar's discovery.

"Hello again, Your Majesty," Thisbe said calmly, quietly. She sounded dangerous and subdued all at the same time.

Phelios felt like his jaw should be on the floor. Lady Lailis? The '_Lailis, Queen of the Doomed Land of Lodoc_' Lailis? He suddenly felt pityingly more compassionate toward her. No wonder she was bitchy and vindictive. Having _that_ as a past life couldn't have been a pleasant experience.

He looked over at his brother to gauge Duzell's reaction to the revelation. He shouldn't have been surprised to see Duzell's confused expression, but he nevertheless was. His little brother had never been very interested in history and Lady Lailis wasn't exactly a current event.

Darres hand tightened on his sword. The blade slid out an inch in silent warning.

Thisbe glanced at him briefly. "I'm quite powerless and in no position to be a threat," she assured him. He didn't look convinced and he didn't stand down. Thisbe dismissed him, turning her attention back to Ishtar.

"Wow," the Queen breathed. She had regained her customary fearlessness. "That's really amazing," she said with genuine awe. "I mean, um, good for you. That's really intense, chasing your guy through three lifetimes." Ishtar paused, her face contorting into a thoughtful frown. "But it's also pretty creepy. I mean, didn't he, like, turn you down…?"

Duzell'd had enough and not even Phelios could keep him quiet anymore.

"Mom, you seriously believe her?" he demanded incredulously. His mother turned frank green eyes on him.

"Totally," she confirmed. She glanced over at Thisbe again. "That is _definitely_ Lailis," she muttered. Thisbe let out an amused huff. Ishtar looked back at the former deranged Queen, surprised. "What?" she asked inquisitively.

Thisbe's lips turned in what could almost be considered a smile. "You are quite remarkable yourself," she acknowledged softly. "I was utterly bewildered to find that you were my lord's mother. I did not expect it," Thisbe admitted.

Ishtar shrugged indifferently. Now that they'd gotten the big stuff out of the way she was rapidly loosing interest. Ishtar never over-thought stuff that couldn't be changed.

Her husband was still at battle-ready in front of her and her green-eyed baby looked about ready to blow a fuse.

Ishtar decided to wrap it up. "Okay, look," she began frankly. Thisbe watched her attentively. "I'm not going to chase you out or anything 'cause I really feel sorry for you. Plus, it's cool how you've got this whole 'undying love' thing going," Ishtar explained in a matter-of-fact tone, "but he's my kid and I'm Queen and if he doesn't want to marry you, you're out of luck. The whole 'unsupervised meetings' thing is so a hundred years ago and nobody except maybe Balan is going to care about it." The Chancellor stiffened at the reference, observing the encounter nervously. "And about Illsaide…" Ishtar seemed to ponder this for a moment. "That's a law not even I'm good enough to get around, but first you gotta have proof. So… you're going to have to draw Sidia," she concluded. Darres looked sharply over his shoulder at his wife. She shrugged. "We'll do it private so it's not a big thing if it doesn't work out." She tilted her head. "That's about it, I guess. Oh, but if you let vampires into the castle like you pulled in Mil Seii, I am going to have to kick you out," Ishtar warned.

There was a stunned silence. Ishtar cocked her head to the side as if wondering why everyone was suddenly _looking_ at her like that.

Thisbe produced her almost-smile again. "Thank you," the girl said, actually sounding like she meant it.

"No problem," Ishtar responded automatically with a quirky looking grin. "Ah, so, I've got stuff to do…" She whirled on her children, Duzell still standing rooted to the floor. He looked comatose. "As for you two! You've got Yara at five and if you skip, I'm going to chain you to your desks," she informed them. Phelios smiled his understanding. Duzell looked like he hadn't even heard. "Okay. Go on. Everybody out," she shooed.

Phelios grabbed his brother's arm and dragged the dazed teen from the room. Thisbe spun on her heel and glided out after them.

"Ishtar…" the General's reprimanding voice could be heard as the doors swung closed behind the three teens.

Phelios knew his mother was in for a serious talking-to... She'd probably be sulky at dinner. She was always sulky after fighting with Darres.

--

**8 D**


	15. Chapter 15

**Greetings, friends and erstwhile strangers! **

**Chapter 15 and no end in sight : D! I know I'm setting a length record for VG fiction, but I'm having a ton of fun and can't seem to stop myself T-T. Well, you see long fics in other fandoms : P so I won't fault VG just 'cause it's not Sailor Moon or RK. My only hope is that I don't loose readers because of the length... **

**Speaking of, thank you Phoenix To Flame and Aiko no Kaze! I'm glad you're liking the story : D**

**On with the story!  
**

--

_The woman rested her hand on her stomach, red nails standing out against the purple of her dress. She lowered her eyes apologetically._

"_Sharlen…" she said gently. "My precious Sharlen… There is something… that I must do." _

_Her voice echoed against the darkness. _

--

The throne room doors closed behind the three teens, like some kind of physical manifestation of their sealed fate. They stood in the middle of the hall accompanied only by the doormen and the guards.

Thisbe was staring at Duzell. Duzell was staring at Thisbe.

The seconds ticked by.

Phelios shifted uneasily, casting cautious glances at the mute palace servants. Just because they were dutifully silent in his presence didn't mean they'd be the same when with their peers… He placed a hand on each of the unblinking teens' arms, subtly prompting them to move. They got the hint and let Phelios guide them down the hall.

"Let's not do this out here," he suggested firmly, glancing around for a safe haven.

They passed one of the antechambers for the throne room. Perfect. No one was allowed in there without clearance. He smiled and nodded at the guard standing by the door and gently pushed the two teens inside. He quickly shut the door behind him, locking it, and then leaning tiredly back against its heavy oak surface.

Duzell and Thisbe were staring. Again.

"I don't know what you think you're going to gain," Duzell started, coldly. "You weren't able to force me into marriage and you've got no other legs to stand on. You should go home," he intoned, regarding her as one would a stubborn, disobedient child.

"I am here because I have nowhere else to go, my lord," she answered, matching his gaze without hesitation.

"You can go back to La Naan. You're family's there, isn't it?" he pointed out. Thisbe gave him a slow smile.

"No, my lord. You do not understand. I am only here because of you. I only came back for you. With you, I would have been content even in Hell," she uttered, voice firm, though the tremble in her hands belied her confidence.

Duzell floundered. He looked almost helpless under the weight of such overbearing devotion, like he couldn't even fathom what to do with her obsessive love. She might have only been alive for seventeen years, but her memories made her ancient. She seemed so far beyond him as he was now. How could she want a clueless fifteen-year-old human prince? One that was a descendent of her King's killer!

"I'm fifteen, Thisbe," he began, sounding half-defeated. "I'm human. I don't remember you. I'm a descendent of Phelios. I must be completely unlike the Duzell you fell in love with, and if I don't regain any memories, then I always will be. You can't love me because you don't even know who I am," he explained.

Thisbe was quiet for a few minutes, her face twisting into a frown. Yet, she kept her own council. Some indefinable emotion rippled across her features. It was gone in an instant. Her eyes hardened and, finally, she nodded once.

"I see," she said. She didn't even flinch. With that elusive reply she turned and fled the room. Phelios stepped aside and the door closed behind her. The prince didn't bother relocking it.

They stood in perplexed silence. Duzell looked disbelievingly to his brother.

"That's it?" he asked as if Phelios magically had all the answers. The fair prince cocked his head to the side.

"I don't really think so," Phelios admitted. "If I came back from the dead for somebody, I probably wouldn't give up at the first road bump." Duzell glared. He didn't much appreciate his current disdain for the girl being categorized as a 'road bump'. Phelios suddenly grinned, turning impish eyes on his twin. "I must say, though, that was a very well composed speech," Phelios praised. Duzell looked blankly at him. "I never knew you were such an eloquent speaker. So passionate, too," he teased.

Duzell scowled. "Shut up."

--

The next few days passed without event. The twins resumed lessons. Darres took a party of soldiers to subdue bandits that had sprung up along the southern part of the Main Road. Ishtar was busy. She was always busy. For one so seemingly immature she was very devoted to the demands of her station. Phelios mastered yet another Holy Magic spell. Duzell didn't.

Duzell and Thisbe acted like a couple going through a divorce. They avoided each other and when they did interact it was with coolness bordering on hostility. Phelios didn't understand it. True to his guess, Thisbe had stuck around. However, he'd expected her to attempt to at least seduce his brother, but she didn't appear to be putting any effort at all into impressing the second prince. Phelios briefly wondered if she'd given up on Duzie, but was simply to spiteful to admit defeat and return to La Naan.

The family and their guest took dinner together. Darres treated Thisbe like she was a dangerous criminal liable to attack at any given moment. Ishtar babbled on about any and every topic she could get her hands on. Her 'baby's' change in hair color seemed to have convinced her that he was ready to hear _all about_ the tumultuous events of twenty years-ago. Duzell learned a great deal over these meals. He learned that his past life had started as a kyawl, that Lady Lailis was famous for her betrayal and subsequent execution, that Illsaide was half-monster and had been in love with Queen Falan, and any other fun facts his mother cared to divulge.

All this glib divulging succeeded in doing was traumatizing him. Former vampire King or not, a fifteen-year-old boy is a fifteen-year-old boy. Duzell subsequently spent a great deal of time hiding from anyone that might know him enough to converse.

Phelios took it all in stride. Probably because none of it directly involved him. He did his best to curb his mother's tell-all attitude at dinner and put a special effort into making sure his brother didn't have a complete meltdown. Which was all he could really do for his overwhelmed twin.

Then, one evening, to all but Darres surprise Ishtar announced that they'd be doing the Sidia test the next day.

She explained it with a, "Might as well get it over with." And that was that. She instantly resumed the prior thread of conversation as if she hadn't said anything at all.

Later that evening the twins sat in the private sitting room that adjoined Duzell's bedroom, spending the time before it got to dark to see together. Phelios was in the habit of dropping by his brother's rooms whenever they had down time. The elder prince wasn't particularly fond of being alone.

Phelios was relaxed across the sofa, sock-clad heels propped up on the cushions. Duzell had sunk into a chair next to the flickering fireplace.

"I wonder if she'll be able to draw it," Phelios mused, tilting his head back over the sofa arm.

Duzell winced. "Hope not," he responded.

Phelios rolled his head to the side so he could see his sibling. "I dunno. She had to get the Ci Xenith crest from somewhere. Plus, how likely is a man to remain abstinent for twenty years? Accidents happen," Phelios reasoned.

Duzell sighed, knowing the blond was annoyingly right. There really was a reasonable chance that Thisbe wasn't feeding them lies. If she'd been able to manipulate her way into being reincarnated, what was to stop her from controlling the circumstances of her birth, Duzell thought with a shudder.

"Besides," Phelios continued with a teasing grin, "if this doesn't work out you can always marry Princess Ranee," Phelios reminded him.

Duzell groaned, banging his head against the soft back of his chair. The thought of the six-year-old monkey disguised as a Princess was not very soothing. He believed his situation squarely fit in to the 'between a rock and a hard place' saying. Duzell raised his head, glaring challengingly at his brother.

"And who are you going to marry? We're rapidly running out of female relatives," he asserted.

Phelios smiled and shrugged. "Maybe Illsaide's got another bastard daughter somewhere. And we could always do what Mom did and just invent one," he replied.

"Okay. So, how about _you_ marry Ranee and _I'll_ invent a relative," Duzell smirked.

Phelios rolled his eyes in mock admonishment. "Ah, ah, ah…" he chided. "I'm not going to take over Ci Xenith. I don't need the political reinforcement of marrying someone from the Ci Xenith branch." Phelios was clearly enjoying this exchange.

Duzell sent him a particularly venomous glare. "When I poison you, _I'll_ be crown prince and wont have to marry either of them," Duzell threatened.

Phelios laughed outright, having a good chuckle over his brother's menacing words. "As if! 'Cause then you'd actually have to _inherit_ the throne," Phelios giggled. "You complain about being bored now? King is about one of the biggest desk jobs you can get and there's no retiring, either," he teased, knowing Duzell would rather eat glass than be made to suffer the stuffy intricacies of palace politics for the rest of his life. Duzell was both intelligent and ambitious, but he _hated_ monotony. Being put in charge of Ci Xenith was going to be enough of a trial for younger prince.

Duzell, as well, couldn't keep the amused smile off his face. "Fine," Duzell sniped. "Then you can wait for Laphiji and Elenor to have a kid and marry someone sixteen years younger then you," Duzell said with saccharine sweetness.

Phelios gave a 'humph' and molded his angelic features into an innocent pout. "Mom married Dad," Phelios defied, knowing his brother's weakness for anything involving their mother. "They're twelve years."

Duzell got that unhappy look on his face that manifested whenever he was reminded that their mother was actually married to General Darres. "Yeah, 'cause she's got an Electra complex," he muttered, not even conscious of the irony of that statement, coming from him.

Phelios didn't contest this and indifferently rolled his head back on the arm of the sofa, looking up. "It's rather silly, anyway," the fair prince observed. "I mean, if I'm really Saint Phelios' reincarnation then why would we bother to keep marrying into the family? Wasn't the whole point of keeping the bloodline pure to facilitate Phelios' return?" the boy queried.

Duzell raised a white eyebrow at his brother's very relevant questions. "God, Phel! Why haven't you discussed this with Mom?" Duzell postulated, sitting up so he could get a get a good look at his twin.

Phelios grunted noncommittally. "Probably because we can't really prove it. Sure, I look like him, but I could have just inherited recessive genes," Phelios pointed out, "and my Holy Magic's good, but that's practically a family staple. Even if I do get memories, no one's there to verify that they're genuine. All people know is what's written in history books. There'd be absolutely no reason to believe me. Mom's word is less than useless. Everyone thinks she's a nutter anyways. Everyone in the bloodline can draw and use Sidia. So, really, how am I supposed to prove I'm Saint Phelios reborn?"

Duzell stared at his brother. It was true. He'd have a heck of a lot easier time proving he was the Vampire King Duzell than Phel would proving himself Pheliosta's ancient savior. Shape-shifting and Blood Magic were both on the side of 100% vampire. As soon as Duzell switched forms and flashed his fangs, people'd run screaming for the hills.

"You could always valiantly defeat an overwhelming hoard of vampires," Duzell suggested with faux helpfulness.

Phelios snorted. "Yeah. You go get the vampire army and I'll meet you at the border settlements. It'll be a blast," the crown prince quipped.

"I'd say 'it'll be like old times', but I don't even know what happened beyond Sir Saint casting that spell and saving humanity from inevitable doom," Duzell drawled.

His lounging twin lightly chuckled. "Inevitable doom? You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Phelios snickered out.

Duzell smiled broadly. "Oh, definitely," he affirmed.

"Still," Phelios said, continuing with their joke, "if you do summon the vampire hoards, I'm afraid humanity's in for it. I'd fight on whichever side you were on," Phelios declared happily.

"Yeah, yeah," Duzell said quickly, hoping to avoid Phelios' usual vow to cast a suicide spell for his little brother's sake. He switched topics as fast as he could. "Anyway, I'm not big on either option, fiancé wise, and I'd still be happy if she can't draw Sidia. One less entanglement," he said, steering the conversation back to their original discussion.

Phelios nodded sagaciously, sort of tucking his chin to his chest in order to properly convey the move in his restricted position. He folded his arms on his stomach, just laying there for a while. Eventually, he turned his head again to look at his younger brother. Duzell was absently watching the fireplace, lost in his own private thoughts.

"You know," Phelios set in, drawing his brother's attention back to him, "Sidia's what triggered my memory," he confessed in a subdued manner.

He was still uneasy discussing his one half-remembrance. Duzell's eyebrow's shot up in silent surprise. He waited patiently for his brother.

Phelios brought his knees up so the soles of his feet pressed down on the sofa cushions. "When we had to draw it for our thirteenth birthday," Phelios elaborated.

Duzell remembered. It had been the first time they'd been allowed near the sword. It was part of some ceremony everyone in immediate line for the throne had to go through when they turned thirteen. He nodded for his brother to continue.

"You know how I dropped it?" Duzell watched his brother expectantly. Duzell remembered. "I said I'd lost my grip, but that wasn't true. If I hadn't been so surprised I would have flung it across the room," Phelios admitted. "I just picked it up and I saw it, like I was there. She was so pretty and I _knew_ I hadn't met her before. I knew she was from… somewhere else. And then Mom just kept going on about reincarnations and I put the pieces together," Phelios confided, manner almost sullen as he stared at the unresponsive ceiling.

Duzell didn't comment. He didn't think his brother was looking for a response. Duzell knew Phelios wasn't fishing for consolation or advice. The younger prince knew what it was like to simply wish to share knowledge with someone. Actually finding a someone you could trust enough to tell was the tricky part…

Phelios was talking again. "She's really easy to remember, too." Duzell focused on his brother, surprised that Phelios was comfortable enough to continue. "She not fuzzy at all. Crystal clear, as if I saw her yesterday. I know exactly what she looks like." Phelios smiled a little self-deprecatingly. "I just wish I could remember her name," he said, turning his head to look at his brother.

Duzell gave a light, sympathetic smile. He, personally, didn't want _any_ of the memories his purported past lives had to offer, but then again he wasn't a candidate for National Hero. However, he could understand why Phelios would want to know more. Having only half of a story was a truly aggravating plight for both princes.

They switched topics, Duzell knowing his brother had revealed all he would that evening. They rehashed the day's Magic lesson, Duzell bad mouthing Yara, their instructor, and Phelios teasing him about his Holy Magic ineptitude.

--

They all gathered in the chamber housing the Holy Sword Sidia bright and (for Ishtar) early the next morning. Royal family and Thisbe only. The guards and Balan had been made to wait outside.

Ishtar seemed like she was the only one not about to vomit from nerves. Even the unflappable Phelios looked antsy. Darres was still in a knot over the girl's history and wouldn't take his stalwart eyes off of her. Duzell was just praying Sidia stuck like it'd been welded into its sheath.

Ishtar, not patient or decorous enough to stand on ceremony, snatched up Sidia from its fancy sword-shrine. She pertly pulled the blade a few inches out of the sheath and, satisfied, snapped it back in. Immediately, she handed it off to Darres, watching him expectantly. The General raised a questioning eyebrow at his unpredictable wife.

She smiled brightly back at him. "Go ahead and draw it, silly. Gotta make sure it's not a fake," she explained in a bossy, 'well, duh' manner.

Darres rolled his eyes at the peculiar request, but went ahead and gave the hilt a good tug, making a serious effort to part the sword from its sheath. The blade stuck fast. Darres stopped trying and his wife grabbed it back.

"It's legit," she announced to the gathering. She pivoted and held the sword out to the redhead. "You're turn, Lailis," she chirped.

Thisbe reached out her hand, hesitating before she wrapped her palm around the middle of the sheath. She held the sword at a distance as if it were some repugnant, foul smelling animal that might try to bite her at any given moment. Her face remained neutrally blank even though her repulsion was physically obvious from the tension in her arms and shoulders. Phelios figured it had to be pretty un-cool to have to touch the sword of her former enemy. The enemy that vanquished her love and the Sword that killed more than its fair share of people and vampires on her side of the war.

The room held its breath. Four pairs of eyes -two green, two blue- stared transfixed at the red-haired girl and the sword she held with such disdain. All that was needed was a knife and they'd be able to cut the tension in the air.

For a perplexing moment, the girl didn't seem to know what to do with the loathed sword. She stared dumbly at its decorative sheath as if waiting for the sword to make the first move. The silent staring dwindled on for a very long moment.

Someone scuffed a shoe against the marble floor. Thisbe jumped, hand tightening impulsively around Sidia. She looked at the sword in mild surprise as if just remembering what it was for. She parted her lips and silently raised her free arm.

Thisbe slowly moved her hand up to the hilt of the sword, still cautious of the inanimate object. Her fingers closed around the grip so tightly that the knuckles turned white. She paused for a moment like she was making sure Sidia wouldn't try anything funny. Her hesitation was slow to fade, but ultimately the muscles in her arm contracted and, like ripping off a bandage, she yanked.

A singing noise was made and the room became silent for a completely different reason.

Sidia had slid out like butter.

Duzell cursed.

--

**8 D Ooh. Cliffy.**


End file.
